The Mechanics of a Miracle
by livelsewhere
Summary: Follows-ish the plot of Clockwork Angel, but modern day AU with no shadowhunters or supernatural stuff... Abandoned by her brother Tessa ends up at a school in London called The Institue of Angels, where she meets a cast of beautiful characters and must sift through years of memories she'd rather forget to save all she has left. Wessa, Jessa, and quotes directly from the novels!
1. 1: Gray

**Sooooo hi... I don't know if anyone will read this, but I had the idea this afternoon and decided to go for it. This is only my second fic, so don't judge too harshly... also, I apologize in advance for bad spelling/grammar- my edit was quick! I hope you like it (:  
** **Tessa story, present day AU, no shadowhunters etc. but otherwise will generally follow plot of CA... there will be Wessa and Jessa (sorry, I can't pick) and (eventually) quotes pulled right from the novels! CREDITS TO THE AMAZING CASSANDRA CLARE, I don't own this, except my original characters and take on the plot.**

Chapter One

Tessa was sixteen, living alone in America after her alcoholic brother Nate disappeared and her Aunt Harriot passed away. There was no money to pay for the rent of her apartment, no time to go to school. There was only the deep hunger in her stomach, the emptiness in her heart, and the long hours she spent in the well-lit New York streets, avoiding the strangely dressed passer-byes and the drunken whistles and the yellow cabs and smoky cabbies who pulled to a screeching halt at the curb every few minutes to collect another teetering, sparkly, would-be night owl and drive them to or from the next hot club or crazy rave.

She guessed she could be called a night owl too, but she never dressed up, never went farther than the sidewalk. Her frigid, bandaged fingers scribbled out words on ragged notebooks and scraps of salvaged paper, and tried desperately to force the thread through the needles eye and sew just a few more patches on her jacket, to stitch just one more pencil case, or sleeve for the shiny phones that glinted so temptingly from pockets daily. Just one, and she could eat for a month… just one, and she could sleep somewhere warm… just one… But she didn't, she hadn't. She sold her simple cases and saved her meager earnings, and once a day, she indulged in a meal.

When she caught sight of her reflection in the window panes across the road, offering cigarettes and beer, bongs and sex toys and bodies, she didn't recognise herself. Her sunken grey eyes were lifeless and hollow, but still dominated her face, her cheeks were all but gone, just pale, yellow-gray skin stretched too thin over cheekbones that were too prominent and teeth that shone like pearls beneath a yellow light. She was a zombie, a ghost, a wrath. No wonder so few bought her offerings—if her face didn't scare them away, her breath would.

She was lost, caught in a darkening world with not one thing to hope from and not one thing to wish for, and her voice was gone she spoke so little, and her eyes were red she cried so much, and her hands were always shaking, from the fear, the pain, the hopelessness.

It felt forever and was only a couple weeks when a blurry shape had shaken her awake one morning. "Oy, Gray."

Tessa blinked, rubbing the night's dust from her eyes. Before her stood Aly, in all his/her grubby glory, the kid from two blocks up. "Lady's looking for you. She don't look like she's angry, since you left her building an all, but I'd be wary. Even in a good mood, she's fierce." He winked, and grabbed a few of the buttons she had left out. She had a network, not of friends per say, but they looked out for each other, in exchange for small tokens; buttons were Tessa's payment, and they were valid not for their monetary value, but because the more you had, the more people knew you were in with Gray, and everyone knew that Gray had fast feet, sharp teeth, and a punch to break your nose.

Her reputation on the streets almost made her glad her brother was a drunk. She had only ever learned to fight because when he was too out of it, she had rescued him on more than one occasion, beating his opponent and dragging his staggering, smoky ass back to the apartment, much to Aunt Harriot's dismay. Her skills had saved her life on more than one occasion, and not just when people thought she belonged to the establishment across the street. When she was starving, people like Aly would come with food, in hopes of earning a 'Tessa Token' or 'Gray Guarantee' as they became known.

She nodded at Aly, who slipped off into the shadows like a cat. As s/he disappeared, Tessa clambered up the garbage bins and slipped between them, not bothering to plug her nose. It was amazing what you could get used to.

Moments later, she heard a voice calling down the street. "Theresa. Theresa Gray!" Ms. Jameson was an older English lady, Aunt Harriot's main client when it came to clothing, and their old next door neighbour. "Theresa, I have something here for you."

Tessa shuddered. Just because Ms. Jameson had known her since she was tiny, since she still had a family, since her grey eyes had taken up her whole face and sparkled with curiosity, it didn't mean she wouldn't turn her over to the police, who might arrest her for squatting (though she wasn't), thievery (though she didn't. Okay, rarely. And nothing too valuable.) or drug dealing (she had never done drugs, didn't have enough money to pay for them or status to get them for free, or the guts to steal them).

"Theresa, it's from your brother. Nathaniel sent it to your old address. It seems he hasn't caught word of your current predicament. Wouldn't it be nice to read? To hear from your family?"

Tessa was sorely tempted, even stirred to rise. But why would Nathaniel be writing to her after all this time? Why would he even care? Not one word for over a year, and suddenly a letter, addressed just to her. _It must be a ruse_ , she thought. She stilled.

Ms. Jameson turned her head towards the alley where Tessa hid. "Theresa? It's addressed 'To my Tessie.' I'm going to read it. I know you're there. "My dearest Tessie. Forgive me for my long absence. I was having troubles and felt it improper to trouble you and Harriot. Frankly, I thought you'd do better without me. News of the passing of our Aunty—"

Tessa sprang from the rubbish. "Stop, Jameson," her voice argumentative and commanding, using the Aly's habit of last names by accident. She gave her head a little shake, to straighten it out. Ms. Jameson wasn't another street rat who needed to be kept under control and off her turf, who needed to come to understand the value of a Gray Guarantee. She was her old neighbour, one who had brought soup when Aunt Harriot had been sick, had kept the landlord off her back when she was alone. "I'm sorry," she hung her head. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do," the older woman smiled, in part with distaste, in part with pity. "The streets." She pulled her jacket tighter around her, and pulled a wet wipe from her purse. She seemed to be struggling not to wrinkle her nose as she extended her hand.

Tessa grabbed the wet wipe, careful to maintain the careful no contact space between them. "Thank you," she mumbled, scrubbing her hands and face.

Ms. Jameson tapped her on the bottom of the chin, raising her head. "Tip tip. Speak up, darling. If you have something to say, look at me and say it."

"Thank you," Tessa repeated, blinking. No one had given her instructions or treated her like she needed manners since her clothes had last been washed, some three weeks ago.

"That's better." She held out a heavy parchment envelope with an address in messy black cursive. Still, unmistakeably, it read Theresa Gray, and just looking at it, Tessa felt as though her brother were coming home. "Why don't you come back to my apartment. We can have a cup of tea; you can read the letter yourself… Once you see what it says, you may want to clean yourself up."

Tessa self-consciously patted her hair. "You read the whole thing?"

"Of course I did. I didn't want you getting your hopes up only to find it was him asking for money or some other ridiculous nonsense like that. As if you have any to spare." She patted a hollow cheek. "Look at yourself."

Tessa didn't need to. She instead wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and followed Ms. Jameson up the staircase to the apartment across form her old one. "Were there other letters?" she asked. "Letters from the past few weeks, when I've been out? From Nate?"

Ms. Jameson pursed her lips.

"You know that's a federal crime, tampering with mail." She hesitated a moment. "Let me see them." Her Gray voice was back, the one she used to command respect, where she could get it.

Ms. Jameson unlocked the front door, and handed Tessa two small envelopes, both thin, with hastily scrawled addresses in Nate's hand. Neither had a return address. The first one read:

 _Tessie,_

 _I hate to bother you, but I need your help. There's a den here, fantastic. I'm winning every night, gaining every penny that I play back five times over. I want to go big, to move up the oligarchy they seem to have in place. But to play with the big boys, you need the big bucks. Give your brother a hand? I promise, you'll see all your coppers turned to gold before you can blink. We can get a big house together, a house with a lawn, and a cat… You can go to school, to university… I'm telling you, this is my ticket out. I just need you to trust me._

 _Yours forever_

 _Nate._

She scowled at the page. Despite the warm familiarity of his writing, the promise of his words, he was just as he had always been, even after a year on his own… deluded, naïve, and entirely charm dependant. It was a shame his puppy dog face and big blue eyes couldn't woo her from the paper.

The second letter was similar, full of promises for a better future where they could be together and happy… if only she'd lend him the money he needed. Though the first had been unspecific, mentioning only 'big bucks' the second had a numerical figure. Ten grand. And no… she double checked. Not American dollars, but Euros. How did he get to Europe? She asked Ms. Jameson.

"Why don't you read his third letter," was all the woman replied.

She cracked open the heavy envelope. Inside was a folded print out of a plane ticket, to London. She pulled the accompanying letter out, her fingers shaking.

 _My dearest Tessie._

 _Forgive me for my long absence. I was having troubles and felt it improper to trouble you and Harriot. Frankly, I thought you'd do better without me. News of the passing of our Aunty has only now reached my ears, and I wish only I'd heard sooner. It hurts me that you didn't try to send word._

Send word? To where?

 _But first, I think you deserve an explanation._

 _I went to London following what we knew of Mom and Dad. I know, Harriot was all you ever needed, and she treated me like a son, etc. but I just wanted enough to know what kind of people they were, enough to know what to expect from myself… what they would have expected. And oh Tessie, how short I fell. You though, you would be their everything, their perfect child. A real Mother's girl. Your smart, quick witted, strong willed, beautiful, and you stand up for what you know to be right. But me…_

 _For a while, I fell down the same rabbit hole as Dad, oh how he would have cried. But then, it was there I first caught wind of their story, first found Mortmain and employment, and received the letters. You have to read them! There are less letters and more diary entries of a sort, Mother's I think. She wrote about the pandemonium club and how Mortmain met our father, how entranced he became, how deep into underground London the club really went… and they ran to America to escape._

 _Mortmain left the club shortly after… he called our parent's his dearest friends. He lent me enough money to pay my way out—these people do not let you leave easily, believe me—and offered me a job at his company. I have steady wages and a small flat. My life is together here Tessie, and ready… for you._

 _With this in mind, I hope you consider the plane ticket I have sent with this letter. It leaves September 18_ _th_ _, so you should have plenty of time to decide. But then… if New York is treating you well, I couldn't force you to leave it. I shouldn't have to be the only family you've got. So if you want to stay, I'll leave you be._

 _Thinking of you, loving you, missing you._

 _I'll be waiting at the airport_

 _Your Nate_

 **So R &R please... be brutal- I'm a fan of constructive criticism. No pressure... K I'm awkward so bye**


	2. 2: Stranger Tides

**Okay so sorry if this isn't one of my best, there's a fare bit of foreshadowing, and we meet new character! Credits go to, of course, the amazing Cassandra Clare, and also to the one and only Charles Dickens (:**

The airport was loud and confusing, a harsh reintroduction to the lives of those with money. There were families struggling to find brightly printed suitcases and tall men and women in suits and shiny shoes who strutted around with their briefcases and snarls, small children who burst into tears, and security guards who stood silently watching the commotion. No one in the departure wing seemed to be alone—even the snarky suits had an assistant or family member standing by, fussing, crying, double checking.

But Tessa was alone. She stood with the backpack Ms. Jameson had given her, which held a change of clothes, a hairbrush and a toothbrush she had also been given, along with the letters from Nate and a couple of buttons. Saying goodbye to the streets had been harder than she had expected.

It had been a relief to sleep in a real bed, when Ms. Jameson had offered her to stay the night. It had been nice to have a shower, when Ms. Jameson had suggested she clean up. And it had been nice to eat a real meal, when Ms. Jameson had suggested she stay for supper. The next morning, she had cleared out early and found her usual corner, had set up her buttons and her fabric, and made a few more cases to sell, in case she needed money in London.

 _London_. Just the name sent a thrill down her spine. Join Nate, in London, where he'd finally sorted himself out… It seemed to good to be true. But then, Nate had purchased the air ticket somehow, and flights across the sea weren't cheap.

The night of September 17th, Ms. Jameson had retrieved her again. She had been showered, scrubbed until she sparkled, dressed in new clothes with her teeth brushed and her hair brushed and braided, and she had been given a backpack and a toothbrush and a change of clothes. She had tried to refuse the older woman, but she would take none of it. It she was taking a leap across the pond, she was going to be prepared. She only wished she had more money—Tess Tokens didn't get you very far in the real world.

When she had walked out of the apartment and across the road to the bus stop to the airport, Aly had wolf-whistled. With a fake English accent, she cried, "To London." She smiled, remembering how s/he had cheered. She _did_ have a sending off party of a sort, in the only way her almost-friends could. It was only as she passed through Customs and climber aboard the plane that she realised her allies were really her friends, and that she was going to miss every crazy one of them. She only hoped Nate would be worth it.

A suit came to sit next to her, a man with bright grey eyes, slick dark hair, and a congenial face that made him instantly likeable. When he smiled, she felt as though it could cut glass, and fought to keep her face impassive. "Axel Mortmain," he introduced himself, extending his hand.

Tessa shrank back, her self-protective instincts taking over. This was not a man she could beat even as Gray. He could have her corner quietly.

His brows drew together in confusion. "I am sorry." Tessa noticed his English accent. "I just thought that if we have to sit beside each other on a plane for seven hours, we might as well introduce ourselves." Tessa looked out the window, but the heard the man huff.

She had nothing to do on the long plane ride, though she itched for a good book. Something classic, like Dickens… oh, what she wouldn't do for her battered copy of A Tale of Two Cities! She was too jittery to sleep, and once they were in the air, there was only so much ocean and cloud she could concentrate on. An hour into the flight, she found that no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts strayed to Nate. Had he really changed? Would she end up being Gray again, just completely alone in a foreign country? At least she spoke the language… What if Nate didn't love her anymore? She knew she wasn't the tough, intelligent and cheerful girl she had been when the last lived together. Starved as she looked, would he even recognise her?

Desperate for an escape from the disturbing track her thoughts had taken, she turned to see what the suit beside her was reading. Her eyes caught the name "Estella," amongst the small font, and she clung to the quote like she was the moth and it the candle.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

Tessa jumped. What he asked was so exactly close to what she had been reading, been wondering, that she couldn't help wonder. "You're reading Great Expectations, Sir."

He smiled, folding the book over to mildly gaze at the cover. "Really?" he asked with just a trace of sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed."

She scowled at him as he returned to the text. "Dickens is one of my favorites," she continued, feeling as though she had to explain herself.

"Is he?" the man asked. His tone was both patronizing and curious, like that of a teacher who knew you hadn't bothered with your homework but was interested in hearing the wild story you had cooked up to explain it. He bothered her.

"Yes," she replied firmly. "Though I preferred A Tale of Two Cities. One couldn't ask for a more tragic cast of characters."

"I don't know. Anna Karenina could give it a run for it's money."

"Well, I suppose the ending…" she trailed off. "What always struck me about a Tale of Two Cities though, was Sydney Carton. Dickens had the most beautiful ways of describing how absolutely hopeless he was, and how worthless he thought himself to be, despite being one of the better people in the whole novel, and well worthy of at least some credit."

"A Carton fan? I should have known."

"You need only look at the character development to know that Dickens wrote a star. The dignity with which he proposed to Lucy Manette, and turned himself down before she had the chance to, the way he worked all night for Stryver and allowed him to take all the glory. He had no ambitions and no dreams, yet he fell in love."

"Aah, love. I thought we might end up back at this, Miss…?" Tessa shook her head in response. The suit seemed disappointed. "Well, love is every young girl's dream. It is no wonder Carton struck your heart, when it was he whose love went unrequited."

"All the best novels had love, Mr. Mortmain. It's what makes us feel. If they were all anger, all vague happiness, all of the deepest depression, we would sympathise, but it wouldn't hold our interest. Tell me truly, do you think half the authors in the world would be authors at all, if they didn't write about love?"

"Maybe that would be a good thing. We don't need anymore shades of Gray, thank you very much. And to think that kind of smut would make the best seller list."

Tessa snorted.

"What?" he asked, looking truly confused.

"Well, you're a grown man, with a job and briefcase and a suit, and a reason to travel to London by yourself reading Charles Dickens, and yet you've also read Fifty Shades of Gray and talked casually about 'smut' with a total stranger."

"Your point?"

"It's just surprising, that's all. Most adults wouldn't understand it if _I_ said smut, let alone be able to use it."

Mortmain smiled. "I'm going to take that as a compliment. But then, you don't exactly look like one who's close to our Mr. Dickens here, so I suppose we're even."

She smiled. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment too."

"Tell me," Mortmain turned to her, finally closing his book. "You're very likely to never ever see me again. So how did you end up here, on a flight from New York to London looking half asleep and half ready to punch the next thing that moves, calmly discussing the great literary works with a complete stranger?"

"This particular stranger introduced himself to me, the view grew monotonous, and I forgot my own reading material, so was forced to peak at his."

"Will I ever get a name?"

"Gray. Umm… Theresa, err, Tessa Gray."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Gray."

"Likewise."

"How old are you, Tessa?"

She flushed. "Sixteen."

"Did anyone drop you off at the airport?"

"Yes," she lied. He raised an eyebrow. "No."

"When did you last eat?"

"I had breakfast this morning," she replied promptly.

"And before that?"

She struggled to think back to her last meal before that. It didn't seem it would be a problem if she told this man the truth, as he said, she would probably never see him again. "Dinner, two days ago."

Mortmain frowned, and waved one hand elegantly above his head. A flight attendant materialised, simpering. "I need a meal for the lady, everything you have to offer. And two glasses of water. Oh, and black coffee." She attendant simpered and slid off, presumably to fetch his order. "I'm guessing you're hungry, Miss. Gray?"

She nodded shyly. Had this stranger just ordered her a meal?

"I ask only one thing in return for this food." He had! "Tell me what happened to put you on this plane, with these sad eyes and sunken cheeks, and small, stiff backpack." The food arrived then, the fastest Tessa had ever been served. It's tantalizingly tempting aroma wafted through the air. Mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, iced tea… the smell of salt and butter assaulted her nose and almost involuntarily she leaned forward. It had been so long…

She reached for a small plastic fork, shoveled some potatoes into her mouth, and began to tell him about Nate, about smoky bars and the rise of Gray, about Harriot and chocolates and debts, letters, street corners and pleas. He listened quietly throughout, sipping his coffee. When she finished, she burst into tears, and he handed her a neatly pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket. She dabbed at her eyes, and made to hand it back to him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand. "Keep it. You might need it."

Her cheeks stained with red, she returned to staring out the window. As tired as she was, she found herself falling asleep, the talking and crying having worn her out. And as the Atlantic passed beneath her, she slept more deeply than she had since her Aunt fell ill, watched over by a stranger who knew more about her than the brother she was to meet anew, more than her parents could ever know, more than she herself would find out for a long time.

He hailed a flight attendant and called for a blanket.

 **So I guess I'll end it there for tonight. R &R!**


	3. 3: Dark Black

**So this is a long chapter to make up for last time's short one. I won't hold you up with a long author's note, so I hope you enjoy!  
Rights go to Cassandra Clare (:**

When Tessa got off the plane, well-rested, a few hours later, she found her backpack to be heavier than she remembered, but shrugged it off. The airport was so much to take in, the extra weight was hardly her greatest concern. How was she supposed to find Nate in all the madness? The arrivals terminal was spectacularly huge, and there were so many _people_. She pushed away her anxiety. She had adapted to life on the streets—she could adapt to a new city. Right?

All around her, people were greeted by cheesy handwritten signs welcoming them. Would Nate have one? She tried to imagine what it would say… 'TESSIE, welcome to your new home'? But then, she would recognise him without the sign. Still a sweet gesture though, she was sure, if only she could find him. She found herself standing on the luggage carousel for a better view, when a dark gloved hand pulled gently at the hem of her coat. "Miss Gray?" it's owner asked.

She looked down, already knowing it wasn't her brother. She nodded, inspecting his sign, but it hadn't been written by Nate—the writing was neat, precise blocks in fat sharpie. She hated its unfamiliarity. "Who are you?" she asked, standoffish and angry, shoved into a foul mood by how Nate hadn't appeared. _He probably hasn't changed at all_ , the thought bitterly, _and I travelled halfway around the world to end up right back where I started, except worse._

"Your brother sent me to pick you up. Come."

Unsure what else to do, she followed him out of the airport. It wasn't like she was getting into a white van with him or anything, and he _did_ know her name. She'd just get a feel for him, see if he had any proof. "How do you know Nate?" she asked as they walked.

He said nothing, but stopped in front of a black Mercedes, gold letters curling artistically across the door, beneath two snakes swallowing each other's tails, read 'Pandemonium Club'. She vaguely recognised the name, thought she might have heard Nate mention it once or twice….

He opened the door for her, and two elegantly disgusting women peered out from within. They seemed well aged, with shrunken, wrinkled faces and yellow, cracked teeth, their thin hair scraped back into identical severe buns. The woman on the left extended a large, bright pink gloved hand, and introduced herself as Mrs. Black. "What a delight to meet you, Theresa Gray," she simpered. "This is my sister, Mrs. Dark. Your brother sent us to accompany you."

She bit back a snappish, smart ass retort, and tried to get a read on the sisters. Ridiculous as they looked in their silken, pink and purple outfits there was nothing to suggest they were lying or untrustworthy. Still, she asked, "How do I know you really know Nate? Did he honestly expect me to trust that you aren't some random creepers come to prey on lost American girls?"

Mrs. Black smiled like a lizard, her thin tongue darting out to wet her lips. "He left us with a letter to give you. He knows you're the smart one." She winked, and Tessa repressed a shudder. These sisters were singularly unpleasant, no matter what her brother had to say. She pulled open the note Mrs. Black passed her.

It briefly apologized for not being at the terminal to greet her, and reassured her that he trusted Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dark— _I call them the Dark Sisters, Tessie, for obvious reasons, and they seem to find the name agreeable!_ —to bring her safely to his flat. Well, the handwriting was certainly her brothers, and the sisters carried the names he mentioned, but it _could_ all be a ruse. But then, it wasn't like she had a lot of other options. She nodded cautiously to the sisters, and climbed into their shiny, expensive car.

It was only a fifteen-minute drive during which she stared out the window before they pulled to a stop outside a beautiful hotel, with ivy crawling up the ancient façade, and a living wall freshening up the entry. "Why aren't we going to see Nate?"

"He wanted to treat you to a meal," the sisters replied. "You're to meet him here."

Uncertain and more than a little scared, Tessa followed the women into the hotel. They ignored the check in desk and the signs pointing to the little main floor restaurant, and made instead for the elevators. With growing trepidation, she followed the sister's shimmery silks inside.

"It is a great honour being done to you, my dear," Mrs. Dark said as the doors closed. It was only the three of them, and the elegant elevator felt, to Tessa, more and more like a cage.

She was silent, trying to understand why seeing her brother was an honour.

"The Magister has been looking for one such as you for a long time," Mrs. Black added.

Tessa couldn't stop her natural curiosity. "The Magister?"

"He who wishes to hire you. When your brother told him about you, he was enraptured. He convinced Nate to bring you over here. So you see, you really ought to be grateful."

Nausea and hurt tightened her chest, but she willed herself calm, and instead asked. "Why was he curious?"

"Your halfwit of a brother, Nathaniel, told him everything about you. Intelligent, with an excellent memory, a virgin, strong, well-versed in the language of the streets, and yet you didn't shy away. You have an unusual tolerance for alcohol, which you demonstrated one evening two years ago, when your brother raided a liquor store, and you didn't need to worry about the future. He said you were beautiful, reserved but quick witted…. He unwittingly painted the magister a portrait of the girl he had so long sought."

Quite taken aback, Tessa asked the first question that came to mind. "Why does it matter if I'm a virgin?" She couldn't believe Nate had told some stranger that. Well, in all honesty, if it was late and there were a couple of drinks, she didn't think there was any secret Nate wouldn't betray. Unlike her, it didn't take much for him to lose his limited restraints.

The elevator came to a stop with a ping, and the doors slid open. "Not now dear," Mrs. Black coaxed, guiding her down the plush hallway like an overbearing aunt.

"It's time to get you cleaned up," Mrs. Dark smiled, pushing the door open to a grand suite. "The bathroom is to your left. There should be soap, and an outfit appropriate to meet your future in." With that, the two women retreated, locking the door behind them. Try as she might, there was nothing she could do to force her way out of the room. With a frustrated sigh, she thought she'd at least make use of the hot water. Despite having used Ms. Jameson's shower, she felt as though the dirt and horror of the last few weeks would take more than a few bars of soap to wash out. She grabbed the hanging luffa and scrubbed herself vigorously.

When she climbed out, she avoided the fogged up window, not wanting to see her ragged, hollow reflection. Instead, her gaze landed on garment back strung up beside the towels. She unzipped it cautiously. Inside was a crisp, dark green dress. Curious, she pulled it on. It fit perfectly, though was not at all to her tastes. A-line cut, it had a white collar, and hung just a few inches above her knees. On the floor beneath it was a pair of black, six inch pumps, that fit perfectly. As she strutted around in them, they stuck her butt and boobs out, and she couldn't help but feel like a hooker; an odd contrast with demure dress.

Cautiously, the opened the door and wandered around the suite. Whatever the Dark Sister intended to use her for, there was no clue. She sifted through the drawers of the desk, hoping for a clue as to who the mysterious magister was, but she found nothing but an old pair of handcuffs. She slipped them out of the drawer, holding them up to the light. Though rusty in places, they seemed to be sound. She shivered, and stuffed them hastily back in the drawer as there sounded a knock at the door.

The Dark Sisters entered, and gave identical nods of appreciation at the sight of her dress. She stared them down. It was Mrs. Black who first noted her position, the papers that fought their way out of the shallow desk drawer. She strode over, and pulled out the handcuffs. "I see you've found our surprise," she smiled. "We meant to save it until later, but as the Magister likes to do this himself, but now you know, we can't have you running off."

And with strength Tessa couldn't have imagined, the sisters had grabbed her wrists and pulled her over to the iron bed. With a click, on of the cuffs was around her wrist, the other around the bedpost, and she was stuck. As hard as she tried to struggle, there was nothing about the metal that would give.

The Dark Sisters sashayed out. "The Magister will be here to see you shortly. We are going for a quick meal. _Do_ try to behave." The door shut with a snick, and Tessa knew that it locked instantly from the outside. Straining her ears, she heard the ping of an elevator arriving and departing, and knew the sisters had gone to the restaurant so many floors below. "HELP," she cried, as loud as she possibly could, straining against the cuffs so the bed dragged a single, painful inch across the floor. It was then she realised the 'rust' on the handcuffs wasn't oxidized metal but blood, and the urge to vomit rose in her throat. She forced it down, crying out again. "Will somebody HELP ME!" She yelled it over and over again, pulling at the bed each time she did, until her own blood began to paint the silver handcuffs. The clock on the bedside table showed minutes passing, and she counted the seconds. "One, two, three, fifteen, thirty…." Nearly an hour had passed when she heard footsteps in the hall. "Help!" she called again, her voice ragged, as she tried not to sob the angry tears of frustration that built in her throat. "I. Don't. Want. To meet. The Magister." she hiccupped. but the steps didn't pause.

So busy staring at the door and supressing her panic, she didn't realise that her backpack was still propped by the bathroom door. With her long legs and arms, and the foot she had dragged the bed, she found that by lying down and stretching out, she was able to get a toe on the bag and slowly, surely, drag it towards her.

She pulled it to her chest, opening it to find her fresh clothes, her toothbrush, and…two books? She smiled as she pulled out Little Women of all things, and Great Expectations. The copy was identical to the one she had peered at on the plane ride over, and as she thought of how her backpack had seemed heavier when she disembarked, she knew who had given her them. She allowed herself as private smile as she cracked the heavy volume and began to read.

It was barely five minutes later that the electronic lock on the door flashed green, and a young man entered. The first thing Tessa noticed was that he was astonishingly handsome—deep blue eyes, softly curling dark hair, the chiseled face of an angel. But that just made her mistrust him further on sight. After all, Nate was a pretty face, she had trusted him, and was now handcuffed to a strange bed in a strange city in a strange country because of it.

Shocked by his appearance, his entry into her room, and the fact that she was promised to him, she did the first thing that came to mind. Great Expectations hit him straight in the face, it's heavy cover reddening his cheek.

"Ouch," he man said mildly as he took in the situation, his gaze resting not on her tear stained face, but at her bloody wrist. "Tell me," he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Do you often sleep tied to the bed?"

"I'm sure Nate would have told you if I did," she snarled, still grasping the weight of her brother's betrayal.

"Nate? I don't know a Nate at all. Did he do this to you?"

"Aren't you the Magister?"

"Magister? Doesn't that mean 'master' in Latin?"

Tessa was taken aback. "I suppose it does."

"No on has ever called me the Magister, though I am a master of many things: wooing girls, concealing a highly intoxicated state—"

"Picking locks?" Tessa interrupted, holding up her wrist.

The man's eyes sparkled, and Tessa realised her was really more of the age of a boy. "Yes, that too."

"Then, if you're not the Magister, get me out."

"For payment," the boy grinned wickedly, "maybe."

Tessa raised her eyebrows, hefting Little Women in her hands. The boy rubbed his still read cheek and knelt beside her. "I'm Will, by the way. Will Herondale."

"Tessa Gray."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Gray."

"Likewise, Mr. Herondale." With a smile, he got to work.

 **I'm on Christmas break (finally!) so I have some time to write. Unfortunately, I also have a massive project due in January because my school is weird so I have to work on that ): If any of you lovely readers have also read Rick Riordin stuff, I just started a knew crossover fic of TMI and PJO called 'Ashes in the Rain' so here's some shameless advertising! I also just found out about a fanfic writing contest called fandom3… it's a cool opportunity someone recommended to me. I don't know but I'm sure it couldn't hurt! The link is /fandom3 if your interested. Sorry for an grammar/spelling mistakes—please R &R!**


	4. 4: Thomas is Not Just a Train

**So I know I'm a little late, but for any of you who celebrate, Merry Christmas! This chapter might be a little disjointed, because it took me a while to figure out how to condense it, but that's not important right now. Read on!  
As always, rights go to Cassandra Clare**

Leaving with Will, the hotel felt far larger than it did when she came in. There were more corners for the Dark Sisters to lurk behind, more sinister shadows that the Magister could emerge from behind. Still, the two managed to reach the lobby uninterrupted. It was only as they were hurrying through the lobby, trying to look calm that they heard the gravelly cry of Mrs. Dark mixed wit the girlish shriek of Mrs. Black. They came running out of the restaurant, surprisingly agile for all their voluminous clothing, yelling for someone, anyone to stop them. But the bellboy the sisters had so desperately hailed for help stopped them instead, and as Tessa and Will escaped to the half-hearted drizzle outside, they heard the indignant shrieks of the Dark Sisters as the hotel management scolded them for disrupting the peace.

Will was grinning as they rounded the next block, Tessa panting. She swore loudly as she nearly tripped, and kicked off the stupid shoes. "Pity," Will murmured. "I rather liked those."

"Why? I looked like a prostitute."

"Is it funny then, that I like those two?"

Tessa scowled. It seemed, of all the rescuers she could have had, it was some arrogant arse, just like the people like home. Just like Nate….

Will was muttering to himself when she refocused her thoughts. "Now Euston Street should be right around here."

Tessa grabbed his arm. "Euston street is back there. The hotel we just left is on Euston street."

Will scowled, which did nothing to mar his looks. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Gray. The handsome young fellow who's trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs."

She couldn't help herself; Tessa snorted.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Why? Are you like Mr. Darcy, at whom laughing would be a grave mistake? Or do you stick mainly to the 'dashing young fellow' title."

"I believe I said 'handsome'. If you're going to mock me with my own words, you might as well do it right. But thank you."

Tessa resisted the urge to slap herself in the face, or, better yet, slap him. But he was a potential ally, and you don't alienate your allies. "Anyways, Euston street is back there."

"It's fine." Will pulled a cell phone in a dark blue case that matched exactly the colour of his eyes from his pocket. "Thomas can pick us up here."

"Thomas. Is that what you English people call the bus?"

It was Will's turn to snort, a sound that made him seem far more real, human than all his witty banter. "No, we call the bus the bus. Then there's the tram, a trolley, a subway, the train, the—"

"I'm well versed in the different methods of transportation, Herondale. So who is Thomas?"

"A train, silly." He grinned, "kidding." Then, noticing her confusion. "Thomas and friends? Thomas the Tank Engine? No? What kind of depressing childhood did you have?" _You have no idea_ , Tessa thought, but kept the words to herself. A sleek black station wagon pulled to a stop in front of the, and Will clambered in. " _This_ is Thomas."

Tessa peered over the leather seats, worried that she falling into yet another trap.

"It's fine. I got you out of there, remember?" Will held out his hand. "You can trust me." Ignoring the twinge in her gut, Tessa clambered in.

Thomas turned out to be the driver, a handsome, broad shouldered young man in his twenties. "He works for the Institute," Will explained, "doing odd jobs and such." In response to her blank look, he continued, "The Institute of Angels Academy? It's really quite famous. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it." That was where they were headed, this 'Academy' where Will went to school. As Will answered question after question, Tessa's anxiety faded, and she began to feel tired, exhausted really, the wrist that had been cuffed to the bed raw and throbbing as the blood clotted. Her head drooped against the plush leather seat, as, though she had slept on the plane, the time difference and stressful events of the day caught up to her.

"Oh!" she sat up in sudden panic, woken from her daze by a single, awful thought. "My books! He was so kind as to give me his books and I left them…."

Will smiled softly. "We'll get you more books. Sleep now." And as Tessa finally drifted, her eyes slipping shut, she thought she felt Will stroked her hair.

When Tessa woke, it was to a cold cloth of her forehead and very large, old head in her face. She shrieked and jumped back, rapidly realising she was in a magnificent old four post bed, with red velvet draped pulled back along the side. From her vantage point against he headboard, she could see that the huge head was actually quite ordinary in size, though attached to a rather extraordinary man. He was tall, sweepingly so, with eyes that matched his sallow skin and no lips to speak of. His nose, though it did nothing of the sort, seemed to protrude from between cheeks as hollow as her own. It wasn't only his colouring, or lack thereof that made him different, though Tessa couldn't quite place what it was. When a woman coughed, she had a heard time tearing her eyes away.

"Miss Gray," the voice said, an order implied, and Tessa turned immediately to look. A small, young-looking woman was gazing at her with intensity. "It is impolite to stare. This is one of the Brothers, a medical student who graduate from the Institute many years ago. This is Brother Enoch."

Tessa shook herself a little. The man, though frightening, was a doctor. She could understand him better. Doctors were always frightening. "Pleasure to meet you, Brother. I'm—"

"Theresa Gray," the Brother interrupted. He walked closer, and there came again the sound of rustling paper. Tessa looked closer and realised that what she had been taken to be an odd choice of clothing was in fact a long, papery robe draped over a perfectly ordinary, impeccable suit. It was the sound of the robe she had woken to. "You seek your brother," he continued. "Nate. You have journey from America?"

Tessa nodded. "Nathaniel."

"Besides being exhausted, and the wound on your wrist, you are in fine physical health." He turned to the woman. "Thank you Professor Branwell, I am done here. I suggest you keep her bedridden for at least another day. And feed her up, cheekbones like that are unnatural."

Self-consciously, Tessa touched a hand to her face. The fierce woman, Professor. Branwell, stood, and Tessa saw that she was tiny. She looked no more than nineteen, and yet the Brother had called her 'Professor'. How could one so young be a teacher? Branwell saw the brother out the door. "Thank you for your help, Enoch. I hope to see you back for our annual tea?"

Tessa supressed a laugh as the Brother puffed his chest out. "I'm a busy man, Charlotte. I've got a job, had one longer than you were alive." He smiled down at her. "I told your mother about you first. And now look at you, ordering me around."

Charlotte Branwell smiled tightly, as though the Brother's affection wearied her. "I trust we'll see you then?"

Enoch smiled, a sight that forced Tessa to supress a shudder. "Wouldn't miss it."

Charlotte talked to Tessa for a few more minutes, lecturing her on staying in bed, then bustled out of the room to find something she could eat. The minute the door shit behind her, Tessa hopped out of bed and scurried to the bathroom. She stared at her face in the mirror and realised that it had begun to look familiar again. Her gray eyes seemed less sunken, and though still hopeless, had a healthier shine to them. Her cheekbones still stuck out grotesquely, her hair was limp and frizzy, her lips cracked, her face filthy. Around sore wrist was a great white bandage. _I look anorexic_ she thought, horrified. _I look like an anorexic who tried to kill herself_. It was this realisation that allowed her to force down the thick, chunky soup sent by Charlotte, but delivered by a young, beautiful girl with a long scar down her face, who had set it nervously on the table and scurried out.

Heavy with food, Tessa found herself once more dropping off the sleep when she heard music, a beautiful, soaring melody played on, she though, a violin. Unable to resist her curiosity, she pulled herself out of bed and tiptoes down the hallway. In another curtained off room in what she guessed to be the academy's infirmary, was a beautiful silver boy, like a dream in the moonlight, a violin propped against a shoulder as he wrung his bow across the strings like he was in a pain and the music was his only drug. Starved for music as she had been, Tessa froze at the door, her eyes closed, and tried to drink in the sound. But the boy seemed to sense her presence. "Will? Will is that you?"

Tessa found herself blushing. "Ummm, no. I'm so sorry to disturb you, please, don't stop. It was just…"

The boy dropped his bow, turning to face her. "Loud and annoying?"

Tessa's eyes widened. "No! Never. It's beautiful. I'm just a room over, I heard you and was curious. My aunt played a lot of classical around the house, but I've never heard that one, and so beautifully."

The boy flushed, the color stark against his cheeks. "I'm James Carstairs. But please, call me Jem."

"Theresa Gray, but everyone calls me Tessa. Or, they did. A while ago."

Jem laid his violin carefully in it's case. "It was a Chinese melody. My mother taught it to me."

"It's beautiful," Tessa replied, suddenly uncomfortable as she realised she was standing in a strange boys bedroom at god knew what hour wearing only a borrowed nightgown, just after she realised she looked like she mentally unstable. "I'll just uh…"

"No, it's fine, you can stay." Jem blushed again. "I've not seen you around, are you a knew student-" His question was cut off a fit of coughing , and blood spewed on the pristine white sheets.

Tessa leaped forward. "Oh my god. Are you okay, can I help you, can I call for someone?"

Jem waved her away, but a harsh voice and strong hand pulled her back. It was Will, his hair dripping, his face flushed. "Get _out_."

Tessa scrambled back, unable to conceal her hurt, even as Jem looked up. "Will," he couched out, reproachful even through a mouthful of blood. He coughed again. "Will it's on the table, please." Tessa followed his gaze to see a small jar and an empty needle on the wooden bedside cabinet, but before she could ask what was going on or how she could help, Will grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into the hallway, slamming the door in her face.

When Tessa finally fell asleep some hours later, her dreams were sharp and colourful. A man on a plane gave her presents and two women cuffed her to a bed. But Nate was beside her, cuffed as well, and screaming, screaming in agony as concentrated light rent his handsome face in two and a boy of shadows crawled out, who slumped through empty cobbled streets, and as he passed beneath a lamp she saw that it was Will, and when the sun finally broke the horizon, Will dissolved into pieces, his white T-shirt becoming the sheets on a bed, which grew spattered with crimson. The boy from whom the blood came lay back on the sheets in utter contentment, listening as a girl screamed to the accompaniment of a haunting violin.

 **I hope you guys enjoyed! This probably wasn't one of my best chapters, because I'm working on a novel for my stupid school project that's due in two weeks, and I still have to write, oh, I don't know, ten chapters. It doesn't help that I have MASSIVE writer's block. Luckily for you, it was case specific! So please, read and review!  
Side-note: if anyone is reading this in the background, not following, not commenting, please please do. It makes not just my day, but my week, my happiness, whatever, whenever I get a notification that someone has followed me, or given a review, even if its critical. We are all trying so hard, and even as someone who likes to write and would probably be doing this anyways, it means the world whenever someone says even, 'update please'.  
Love you all and happy holidays (:**


	5. 5: Tea and Hope

**Hey so long time no update, sorry about that. I could give you excuses, but that would be just that—excuses. So here's the new chapter instead!**

Tessa awoke to the wail of a siren. Every nerve in her body stood at attention as she made to jump to her feet, to hide behind the dumpsters she usually used for cover when the police came on a raid, except it wasn't cold cement under her feet, but plush mattress, that gave beneath her feet and sent her tumbling to the ground with a crash. It was only then that she realised that the noise wasn't a siren but a bell. Staring up at the beautifully painted ceiling, she began to remember where she was. Some sort of institute, Will had said, a boarding school. Will, who had rescued her from those horrific women, those Dark Sisters, who had been sent by Nate, Nate who had betrayed her… She jumped to her feet and began to search for the awful green dress. She pulled it on and tied her hair in a knot on top of her head before hurrying out of the room.

The same pretty serving girl from last night stood in the hallway, tray in hand. Tessa nodded once quickly at her and hurried past, unable to stand the thought of staying in the infirmary. She had to get out, she had to get back to America. At least she had friends there, at least she had a reputation that would keep her safe. She couldn't control or understand that panic that rose in her throat she just knew she needed to be outside, away from the stifling stone hallways and old, unfamiliar English charm. She pushed through door after door until she felt a breeze on her face, and sank onto the steps just out of reach of the rain.

Someone sat beside her. "I'm Sophie. Tea?"

Tessa turned, surprised to see the girl form the hall. "Sure. I'm uh… I'm Tessa."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Sophie handed her a steaming mug. "London can be a bit overwhelming at times. But everyone at the Institute, at least, is quite nice. Except a few of the students."

"Is it a high school then?"

"Something like that. A boarding school. Mostly kids on scholarship, or sent from rich families who can't deal with them. A few alumni stay on as teachers in training. I actually think its partly a university too."

"Weird."

"Yeah. And expensive."

"So are you a student?"

Sophie laughed. "No. I'm just the help. Whatever Professor Branwell needs, I can do. Clean, cook, file… Deliver soup to strange guests. "

Tessa smiled apologetically. "I don't even know why I'm here, why Professor Branwell is letting me stay. In America, no one would even have glanced my way. Will… how did he even find me in the hotel?"

"You'll have to ask him. But be careful when you do. He can have quite a temper."

"I know. He was quite harsh last night."

"Let me guess—you talked to Jem when we fell ill?"

Tessa thought back to the silver boy coughing blood in the moonlight. "Yes."

"Well, come to breakfast. Give him a chance to make it up to you, though it's unlikely he will."

"What a high opinion of him you have!" Tessa grinned facetiously.

Sophie reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. "We have our differences. But what else, really, did you think you would do. Run away with no shoes? This was you can meet the rest."

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a long dark oak table set for six. Professor Branwell sat at the head. Moments later, a read haired man wandered in, starry eyed, and sat to her right, spooning applesauce into his teacup. "Henry, dear," the professor smiled gently as she steered his spoon in the direction of his plate, "that's for tea." He smiled guiltily back at her.

"Good Lord Henry are you _quite_ mad," a female voice from the doorway echoed, and Henry dropped his spoon with a clatter. Though Tessa had been thinking the same thing, she thought the tone rather unnecessary, and spun around to tell the new arrival that, but someone else beat her to it.

"You're in fine spirits this morning Jessamine. Can I offer you some oatmeal to shut you up?" Will grinned at the girl as he slid past her and pulled up a seat at the table directly across from Tessa.

Jessamine ignored him, and sashayed to a seat as far from his as possible, which put her directly beside Tessa. "Who are _you_?"

She smiled nervously, sticking out her hand. "Tessa. Umm… Theresa Gray."

"I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but…"

Tessa fought the anger that rose in her at the disdain that twisted the other girl's beautiful features. She would never let anyone talk to her like that back home. But something told her a good first impression here meant manners instead of instilling fear.

Sophie leaped up as Jem entered the room, humming. "Good morning," he smiled. "Thank you Sophie."

Tessa grabbed her hand as she made for the door. "Why aren't you staying to eat?"

"I told you Miss, I'm just the help."

Tessa blinked and began to protest, but the other girl ripped her hand free and hurried out.

"Everyone, this is Miss Gray," Professor Branwell finally said. "Miss Gray, I'm Charlotte Branwell, Headmistress, and this is my husband Henry. I believe you already know William Herondale, and beside him is James Carstairs. And on your left is Miss Jessamine Lovelace."

"Nice to meet you." Tessa smiled nervously at those around her.

"American," Henry exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

"Oh yes, very observant." Jessamine squinted at Tessa. "Are you _all_ this yellow? Or are you, like, on drugs or something?"

"Jessamine!" Charlotte scolded.

"No its fine." Tessa turned to Jessamine. "I haven't done drugs, but my brother's been into them a great deal I believe, here in London. Do you know where I can find any?"

"Well I never—"

Will winked at her. "Looking for trouble?"

"Well you did find me handcuffed to the bed."

Jem raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you should tell me what, exactly, you mean by that."

"Well I was in the ridiculous hotel when my damsel-in-distress siren started wailing, so I went—"

"Will." Jem bit his lip, eyes laughing. "I was asking Tessa. Is it okay if I call you that?"

She nodded. "Please. But now Will's mentioned it, how did you find me?"

"I know Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dark, I was actually following them. You see, they are quite successful engineers, but I have reason to believe they are stealing parts."

"And you, so just, so right, so bizarrely English, _had_ to see this righted?"

Will winked at her. "Nope. I was just in it for the reward money."

"Riiiight," Jessamine drawled. "But Tessa, please tell. Your brother left you to the care of some psychotic crooks who dressed you in hooker heels and handcuffed you to a bed. You have no money, no connections, and no plans. What are you going to do?"

Tessa blinked. "I'm not sure. I'll figure it out. I've gotten through stuff like this before."

Jessamine raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

"Well, after my brother moved to England so he didn't have to deal with me anymore, and my aunt died, and my apartment was stolen by the landlord because I'm not of age, and I couldn't go to school because I needed to work, and I couldn't work because I had absolutely no credentials or skills for which to be hired, and no food because I had no money and didn't want to be a prostitute, a thief, or somebody's drug bitch, I lived on the streets by myself for six weeks. But that _was_ in America, so maybe that's nothing at all."

The table was silent.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I'll be out before you know it." Tessa rose and all but ran for the door. "Thank you for breakfast. Henry. Professor Branwell."

Charlotte lay down her spoon with finality. "I _did_ tell you most of the students were here on scholarship. How are you academically?"

Tessa stopped, confused. "I'm alright."

"I don't suppose you have a transcript handy?"

The girl snorted. "Not a chance."

"Well, we'll have to try and get it faxed. In the meantime, if you'll come to my office, I'll get you the application form."

"What?"

"Well, you have nowhere else to go. How would you like to go to school here? To stay at The Institute of Angels?"

Tess looked at the confused and concerned faces around the breakfast table—Jessamine, who looked as though she though Charlotte had lost her mind; Will, who was smirking; Jem who was grinning; and Henry, who was buttering his apricot with his jaw down to his knees—and grinned. "I would like to very much."

 **Yay! Finally a new chapter! Sorry, it's kind of a long filler... I'm tired and sick, so this won't be a long comment. R &R please!  
Love**


	6. 6: Novels (are better than) Essays

**So this is embarrassing. Sorry for keeping you waiting, if anyone is still reading this! Hope you enjoy (:**

The rest of the day was full to the brim, with form after form, and writing letters to the American government to verify her legal guardian (Nathaniel), vain attempts to contact her old school in hopes of retrieving her transcript… The professor, though kind and helpful, was also a busy woman, and after showing Tessa exactly what needed to be done, and drafting a few emails that contained an explanation of the situation and her e-signature, she had left Tessa in the school's library.

Books. There were books everywhere. Stacked on top of trolleys, lining the walls, a few old tomes spread open on corner tables with a special light and a magnifying glass. To Tessa, who had not had the chance to read since before he aunts death, who had been given books by a stranger only to lose them within hours, who was more at home in the stiff pages of a novel than she ever was in her own shoes, it was heaven. She barely lasted two pages of tedious signatures and essay prompts and other entrance assignments before the books' call drew her out of her chair. She didn't know what she was looking for until she found it: a well worn copy of A Tale of Two Cities stacked neatly amongst what seemed like every book Dickens had ever written. She found a corner that looked over the courtyard, a cushioned chair tucked securely into a bay window, and settled down to read.

She was so engrossed in the story that it wasn't until the Marquis was murdered some 150 pages in that she was tugged back to reality, and only then by a long fingered hand that plucked the book from her grasp. Tessa scowled at up at the offender, thoroughly prepared to fight them for the book, then tell them to fuck off, but Will had the sort of look on his face that gave one pause. Then, in a most lyrical, soothing voice, he began to read.

"'It was like a fine mask, suddenly startled, made angry, and petrified. Driven home into the heart of the stone figure attached to it, was a knife. Round its hilt was a frill of paper, on which was scrawled: _'Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from JACQUES.'_ ' Thus ends chapter nine. Dinner?"

Tessa stared at him in confusion, still shaking the image of the still and stony Marquis, dead in his bed, from her head.

"Are you ready to go to dinner now, Miss Gray?" Will asked very slowly, feigning an exaggerated English accent. "My god Americans are slow. Are you sure your marks are good enough to apply here?"

"Give me my book."

Will shrugged indifferently, tossing the book casually in her direction. Tessa stretched out quick fingers to snatch in from the air, hugging it to her chest as if to protect it from the horrors of the world, Will included. "It makes no difference to me if you come, but if you intend to eat with us again, supper is ready, and Charlotte sent me to find you."

Tessa racked her mind. Charlotte, Charlotte… Of course—Professor Branwell. "May I take the book?"

Will just shrugged. He turned and set a brisk pace through the library that left Tessa scrambling to keep up, the ridiculous socks that were a part of the girls' uniform slipping down from around her knees.

"I never much like Carton much," Will said after a moment. "He was so horribly depressing, a pessimist to the last."

"But a hero." Tessa fought to keep her surprise at Will's knowledge of the story from her voice.

"You say this only because he died."

"But he died for friendship. For love."

Will's eyelids fluttered. "Another romantic. You and Jem should get on well."

"Jem. Is he the boy I met last night? Who was at breakfast this morning?"

"I forgot, you were never properly introduced, with nicknames etcetera. I suppose there's no point if you might not stay. But yes. With the silver hair."

"I _am_ going to stay," Tessa insisted, suddenly more determined. Her stomach twisted with guilt at the thought of the unfinished forms and applications she had left on the table.

Will, as if sensing this, smirked. "How much effort did you put in to staying here today? Fifteen minutes?"

He was such a _jerk_. "It was more than that. At least an hour with Ms. Branwell, and another without her. Paperwork is just so tedious. It reminds me of—"

Will didn't push her failed sentence, as if he sensed the pain behind the words. To Tessa, who had been thinking about trying to organize her aunt's funeral, this was a point in his favour. Instead, he changed the subject. "It's easy to get lost in here, if you're new. But if you follow this tapestry," he tugged on an odd motif of an angel rising from a lake, "you will always end up at a door that opens outside."

Tessa stared at the angel that rose out of the water, a cup and a sword in each hand. His face was strong boned and stony in a way that was both benevolent and furious. Water streamed off his outstretched wings like crystal from a chandelier, every stitch deliberate and breathtaking. It seemed a very English thing to have tapestries lining the walls. She said as much to Will, who laughed. "You sound as if you're hoping for a secret passage in the stone walls."

"Hey, if it can happen to Aurora, it can happen to me."

"That was a Disney movie. And she was cursed by an evil fairy to sleep for a century. But I suppose you too would be so easily naïve as to follow a glowing green light."

"She was bewitched!"

"She was _imaginary_. Fictional. Belonging only to storybooks and children's dreams."

"So your saying there are no secret passages?"

"I'm saying to let it alone." In his accent, the 'let' fit perfectly in the sentence, the lilt of his words, but when she shaped the phrase in her mouth, it seemed oddly angular, unlike the more familiar American 'leave'.

"You sound different the Professor Branwelll," Tessa suddenly realised.

"Oh, well spotted."

"You're not English then?"

Will rolled his eyes. "No. I'm honestly amazed it took you this long to notice. Amazed."

"Well pardon me if I'm not well versed in the varying accents of random Europe." She hesitated. "Where did you say you were from?"

He smirked, dark blue eyes alight. "Guess."

Tessa blushed, shrugging. "I don't know. I don't know anything about accents. The only reason I can kind of pick out an English one is because of the Harry Potter movies. Can I have a clue?"

"Annysgedig estron."

She laughed. "What?"

"Annysgedig estron. That's two words in the language to which my mysterious accent belongs. That's your clue."

"I don't know! Umm German?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Not even close. But we're eating here, and you might not want to make your first impression looking so flustered and annoyed."

"So you'll spare me?"

"Nope, you still have to guess. But for now, you can follow my lead." He swung open the carved double door before them to reveal what much resembled a school cafeteria in layout, except far, far nicer. Smallish wooden tables were spread with salads and pasta, pitchers of water and pots of tea. More remarkable than the food, however, were the couple hundred teenagers in matching black uniforms, carrying food in and out of the kitchen, laughing, talking, occasionally staring. A few faces now seemed familiar, Jem's silver hair and the Jessamine's tinkling laugh as she flirted shamelessly with a table of boys. People who could only be professors monitored the hall, sometimes snagging sausages from passing serving plates, their silver ties glinting in the soft light. As Tessa followed Will to the empty seats at Jem's table, he turned to grin at her. "This is the _real_ Institute. Welcome."

Jem shot her a smile. "Now you've seen the caf, you've seen our inner workings." He turned to Will. "She has to stay."

Jem pulled out the chair next to him, and Tessa, blushing at the English manners, took a seat.

It was eight days before a letter arrived verifying Nathaniel as her legal guardian, and another four before her transcripts arrived, at which Professor Branwell had pursed her lips. "Well," she had murmured, "your English mark is good, at least." In the intervening week and a half, Tessa had stayed in the library, working on the applications as best she could, and looking for her brother. The Dark Sisters (according to Will) were mechanics with an uncanny fascination with artificial intelligence. He had, apparently, found a half- assembled automaton in the hotel room, though when Tessa had asked to see for herself, he claimed housekeeping had taken care of it. And though she searched the phonebooks and internet for references to Mortmain, without a first name he was impossible to find. Nathaniel, it seemed, had vanished off the face of the earth, along with Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dark, who not even the hotel clerk remembered. If it wasn't for Will's rudely accurate description, Tessa would have wondered if she had imagined them.

Henry, it seemed, had sent Will to look over her while she waited to submit her application, though it was perhaps a more self- centered attempt to clear the lurking boy from his 'laboratory', in which he housed and worked on everything from research papers to chemistry experiments. He had all the credentials of a university professor, and all the tact, grace, and social awareness of a seven-year-old. So when Tessa found herself in the library day after day, fighting the urge to read, and instead working on the admissions essays, with topics like: 'the most difficult thing to happen to you, and how you've grown from it' as well as 'if you could live in a fantasy world of your own making, what role would you play?' Will always sat two seats away, staring and making the occasional snidely humorous remark. Of course, it seemed that where Will went, Jem went, and the two boys often played cards or did each other's homework. Jessamine, the beautiful blonde from the first night, sometimes sat with them too, if only to sniff down her nose when somebody swore, and to lecture Tessa on how makeup and a better fitting shirt would play up her plain looks. "You could be almost pretty," she had simpered, "if you put a little effort in."

Needless to say, Tessa was glad by the time the entrance exam date arrived. Professor Branwell, who had sometime in the last two weeks become Charlotte, handed her a pencil, and eraser, a sharpener, and a calculator and wished her luck. She slipped into the silent room, presided over by the same doctor who had examined her upon her arrival, Brother Enoch. The rustle of his parchment robe was the only sound in the tiny space save the scratch of her pencil as she frantically tried to remember how to solve graphs and which Louis ruled France when it was richest. After three hours, Brother Enoch called time and took her paper away. Charlotte, Tessa knew, would mark it later that night.

Unable to stand the suspense, she retreated to the library, to the small bay window she had found, and a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone that was missing the cover. But that hit too close to home- a boarding school he didn't know he could get in to, an escape from a life he shouldn't have had to live… She scoured the bookshelves looking for something new that she could lose herself to entirely.

Will found her prowling. "Well, if you're looking for something to read, I can give you a little information."

Tessa wrinkled her nose. "I'm looking for a distraction. I prefer novels."

"Not sure if you got in then?"

Tessa shook her head.

"I'm sure you did. I saw the work you put in to those essays. Half the students here are only allowed because their families have what they call 'old blood'. Puts you on par with angels in this society. Of course, Charlotte hates it, but there's only so much she can do, especially as a woman. Quite a few English who would have been 'upper class' retain the sexism of the eighteen-hundreds or so it seems."

"Thank you, but I… I don't want to find out too much about the institute, to fall in love with it, only to find out that I can't stay."

Will tossed her a heavy book with a grey cover. "It's a condensed history of England, following the institute's greatest families. It explains how the school grew, their values, the layout, the legends—it's everything a new student needs."

Tessa hefted the book with one hand. "Thanks. I think I'll just try and go to sleep."

Will smirked. "Good luck."

It was early the next morning, the sky already filled with pearly clouds, that Tessa was summoned to Charlotte's office. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sire it could be seen through her t-shirt as she took a seat in the narrow chair.

Charlotte folded her tiny hands in front of her on the desk. "You're transcripts were less than spectacular. You're grades, save English, were average at best. Not good enough for a scholarship. You're prepared essays were better, I would even go so far as to say there were moving. But then that's not surprising. You've lived a lot of life for one so young. As for your entrance exam…"

Tessa held her breath.

"It's quite clear to me that you'll have to work extremely hard to catch up. Sciences and the Social Sciences require the most work, quickly followed by Math. Though we attempted to grade to American standards, I'm afraid that our marking here at the Institute of Angels in not individually tailored. You will be held to the same standards as the students who have been here for years."

"You mean… I got in? I passed?"

Charlotte smiled, the first of the meeting. "You're stellar English grade made up for the less than spectacular maths one."

Nothing in the world could have kept the smile from Tessa's face as she wiped the tears from her eyes and thanked Charlotte profusely. She belonged, she had always belonged and now it was official. She was a student! At the Institute of Angels!

 **Sorry for the long wait! I know I should update more often, I really do. And I try! Its summer where I live, so all my friends are out at the beach (when its not raining) and watching movies and stuff, and stupid me took an extra math course. Oops. I don't think most people read the comments anyway, so sorry that its always a personal update about something completely unrelated. But then, if you don't want to hear it, you don't have to read it. I'm rambling…..  
R&R please 3333333333**


	7. 7: Gobsmacked

**Hey folks so I'm an awful updater, but this has some ships to make up for it (: (: (: (: (: (: (:**

Tessa thought she knew the school, thought it would be easy. She'd already been there a week, right? Turns out there was far more to the school than a library and the outbuilding that held the office, infirmary, and private dining hall. Her Physics class was some place called the "De Quincey Building". The little map Charlotte had loaned was supposed to help her orient herself, but it seemed the office was right at the center of campus, and a road leading to a big metal gate in all cardinal directions. Surrounded by old stone buildings, she could have been anywhere. And she hated physics.

Student's passed in their black uniforms, the shiny silver trim glinting in the weak sunlight. She looked down at herself, at the polished leather ankle boots, the black knee socks, the black skirt trimmed in silver, white shirt, soft black wool sweater, the classic scholars v- neck and sleeves outlined in the same shiny trim. She felt horribly uncomfortable and out of place, with her knee socks slipping down her calves. Charlotte had supplied her with the uniform and basic school supplies, including textbooks, and, for now, tuition and board. But the Institute of Angels didn't offer full scholarships, and if Tessa wanted to stay, she would have to maintain top grades, and find someone to supplement her tuition. It all seemed impossible.

She saw a familiar figure with curly dark hair walking away from her, and ran to catch up. "I'm hardly uneducated, even if I am a foreigner," she said.

The boy turned to her, green eyes laughing, judging. "Good to know." His accent was definitely English, and now she was closer, his hair was a much lighter shade than Will's.

She blushed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Now I get the foreigner bit. American."

"And a new student. Probably lost. And potentially uneducated, if one were to judge intellect on the ability to properly dress oneself." His eyes flicked to her ankles where her knee socks had fallen, then back, coldly amused, to her face.

She put on her best horribly fake English accent, the one acquired from Harry Potter, and simpered. "I'd tell you to shove it up your ass, but it seems your head's already there."

"She's got you there, Lightworm," drawled a voice behind her. Tessa turned to see Will just as he waved his hands in front of him. "Shoo."

The other boy scowled. Turning to Tessa, he said, "It's Gabriel. And don't believe a word he says," before he turned on his heel and walked away.

"I'm not an uneducated foreigner."

Will just shrugged. "But _that_ was Gabriel Lightwood, better known as Lightworm, for obvious reasons. Class 'A' ass, a truly cocky rich bastard. It comes from all the old money. He still believes he's an aristocrat and far better than the rest of us, but his father's so defaced the family name that were it an earlier land, they'd have been stripped of their lands and titles."

"Thanks for the description. But your Welsh?"

"Yup."

"So what's Whales like? How's it different?"

"Slightly less grey. What do you have first?"

Tessa groaned. "Physics."

"In the De Quincy Building?"

"Yup." She popped her P.

"That's two to your left. You're actually very close."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully. "I'd hate to be late for my first day."

"No problem. But I'd pull up your socks."

"Its my first day! I can't be expected to have memorised this ridiculous campus already."

He grinned. "I meant literally. Their supposed to be up to your knees. The professor might be offended if you came in showing that much leg, nice as it is."

Her eyes narrowed as she yanked up the black socks.

"Good luck!"

She turned left anxious and grumbling. "I hate uniforms."

By lunch time she had been beaten bruised and bloody—mentally, that is. Her brain felt like it was oozing out her ears, and she thought she might have to find some aloe vera to soothe her cheeks after the hours they'd been on fire.

She rain into Will in the hallway outside the cafeteria, and grabbed him by his sleeve. He turned to face her at the edge of the hall. "What?"

"What? What! The de Quincy building is not two left of Starkweather Square, it was two _right,_ and don't pretend you didn't know that! Not that it matters, because _there's no physics classes in the mornings_ , because Professor Branwell likes to sleep in!"

"Do call him Henry, Tess."

"Don't call me Tess!" She dropped her voice to a whisper as her words shouted. "I was late to my first class, which turned out to be classic novel study, which I _loved,_ the little of it I could get to of course, due to your misinformation. Not to mention the professor hates me because I was late, which only acted as a confirmation of his belief that as an American, I can't possibly appreciate literature."

"Sounds like quite a morning."

"Then that Lightwood dick was in my math class—"

"We call it maths here."

"—and he kept telling me that I, as your new conquest, should get _something_ out of it by asking you to tutor me! And I couldn't say anything because I need to be on my best behaviour if I'm to get a scholarship and math is hard enough as it is without rude falsities being thrown my way because of an obvious animosity between you and some stranger! _And_ not one person who laughed at my upwardly challenged socks gave me any clue as to how to make them _stay_ up. Not one! It was like the minute I spoke without stupid round vowels or a rise at the end of the sentence, I was labeled a real 'wanker' and those around 'took the piss' and felt like a complete and utter 'cock up'."

She was about ready to kill something, preferably Will, on whom she didn't really blame the morning, but who was a readily available target.

But he was laughing, a grin splitting his face, a twinkle in the eye.

"What's so funny?" She was pissed, but in the face of his laughter, she could hear the humor of her outrage, and a small smile fought for space on her lips. She smacked him, hard, on the arm. "Stop it! It's not funny."

He was still grinning. "It kind of is, you have to admit."

She flipped him off. "Lunch? I assume you'll show me the correct way to the cafeteria. But don't worry. If you get lost, I can find my own way. I've been _here_ before."

He nodded in the direction of the opened double doors. "I _am_ sorry about physics. I thought it would be a lark, but obviously not. And brilliant use of all the slang, by the way. Inspiring, truly, from an American."

She laughed sarcastically.

"No seriously. Don't ever do it again, but good effort. But what was it you told Gabriel this morning? That you'd tell him to…?"

"Shove it up his ass," she smiled, "but it seemed his head was already there."

"Nice one. It looks like we're having salad for lunch." He grimaced. "Yum."

And as a smile cracked her face, she couldn't help but be grateful to Will for having put it there.

 **First day of classes! Sorry this chapter didn't have a lot going on, but it's a much needed, much outdated update. I'm sorry for all the incorrect use of English slang, but I'm Canadian; no one says wanker, or cock up or anything I pulled off the internet, so…  
And happy start of school to everyone, like me, his about to hit up week 3. I know I'm dying already, so good luck  
Please please please review, follow or favourite or recommend, it means the world to me  
xoxoxoxooxoxoxox**


	8. 8: Lost or Taken

**So I've been dying since school started cuz, ya know, school, so no, or should say late, update. Hope you don't give up on me!  
** **Rights to Miss Cassie Clare, of course**

On her third day of classes, Tessa was called in to see Professor Branwell. 'This is it,' she thought. 'They've figured me out, they're going to send me away.'

When she entered the office, it was not just the small headmaster sitting at the desk, but a tall, intimidating man with a black pinstripe suit and a purple tie. His grey eyes fixed upon her in a leering, predatory way. She wished she'd had time to pull up her knee socks. His shiny leather shoe tapped impatiently on the floor as she approached.

"Professor?"

"Please sit down, Miss Gray."

Nervously, she sunk down into a stiff backed wooden chair opposite the adults. The man seemed to tower over Charlotte, and in his presence, her own seemed diminished.

"This is Benedict Lightwood. Mr. Lightwood, Miss Theresa Gray. Our new scholarship student." There was an inflection to her words that suggested this was not the first time the two had discussed Tessa.

"A pleasure, sir."

His nose wrinkled. "An American."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Lightwood is on the school board, as well as the University admissions committee. More importantly right now though, he is also a lawyer, currently working in conjecture with the police to find a specific gang. One they believe you may have encountered."

"…okay?"

Lightwood turned to her. "You claim you were sent a plane ticket through snail mail from your brother Nathaniel Gray. Is that correct?"

Tessa nodded.

"And in the accompanying letter, he claimed he would retrieve you, but you were instead met by two sisters?"

Again, a nod.

"Can you tell me their names."

"A Mrs. Dark and a Mrs. Black." She shuddered. "They said they knew my brother."

"You oughtn't trust strangers Miss Gray. One would think someone with your background would learn that."

Anger, deep within her chest, blinked a sleepy eye. "I'm do apologise, sir, but what is the point of this inquiry?"

"Can you describe the sisters for me?"

"They were slightly overweight, with thin hair scraped back into a bun and age sunken cheeks. One of them wore a violently purple dress, the other one in the same variety, but pink. They had yellowy teeth and claw-like hands. Will you answer my question?" She bit the words out in frustration.

"There is a gambling club within the city selling far more than games. Missuses Dark and Black are suspected to be involved."

"The Pandemonium Club," Tessa supplied.

"How did you know that?"

"It was painted on their car. A black Mercedes or Audi or something."

Lightwood nodded. "Did you notice anything else?"

"Uh… they had a driver. And they mentioned their leader, someone who call's himself the Magister." She shuddered. "They said he had been waiting for me."

"I see. I would like to speak to your Professor alone." He turned to face the older woman, his manner more rude than brusque. She had been dismissed.

"Oh Tessa, please wait outside a moment. Thank you."

Lips tight, Tessa nodded and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind her.

Gabriel Lightwood leaned insolently against the wall, one foot propped up behind him. He smirked. "I see you've met my father."

"Oh yes, and he's almost as charming as you are." She folded herself into one of the waiting chairs, her footsteps echoing down the empty hall.

"What did he want? Is your American self catering to the stereotypes and revolting against uniforms, showing too much skin, and drinking in your dorm room?"

Tessa snorted. "You forgot the coke."

"Ah, that pop you're all so fond off

"We call it soda, actually. But I was referring to the drug. You know, cocaine."

He sneered. "Clever. What intellect! What wit! Resorting to drug jokes so early in the game, Miss Gray."

"The only game at play here is in your head, Lightworm."

He nodded slowly. "So you've made friends with Herondale. It all makes sense. I just hope he treats you better than the rest."

"The rest?"

Before Gabriel could answer, the door swung open. Lightwood senior stalked out. "Gabriel, come." He sounded as though he was talking to a dog. Gabriel shot Tessa a last warning look and followed at his heels.

"Tessa, do come in."

"I'm sorry Professor, but I have no idea what that was about."

"That's quite alright. And call me Charlotte, please. A level of informality is quite acceptable in gatherings so intimate as these. Please, take a seat."

Tessa sat.

"Now. You've been here a week; you've have some time to get settled. Have you been giving some thought as to how you are going to pay your tuition?"

Tessa bit her lip. "I don't even know the city. I've been asking around if there's a coffee shop on campus, but it seems there isn't one, and the caf won't hire students. I need to go into the city, but I haven't found someone who can take me. I don't know the city well enough yet to go alone."

Charlotte folded her small hands on the desk. "I have a proposition for you. It would not completely solve the tuition issue, but it may make it easier. Benedict is, as you are aware, looking for the pandemonium club. You having been the only one to make contact with them in the last three months, he and the police force would request your assistance in the investigation. You would leave the institute with Gabriel Lightwood each Saturday as he goes to visit his father, and return as you will, perhaps after some hours spent at a job."

Tessa bit her lip. "How might I be helping?" Since the cops had been called to see her forcefully evicted in America, she had difficulty trusting their good intentions.

"You would recount all the details you can remember. And I believe Benedict may have a special job for you. One that would require weekly check ins, or so it seems."

"I'm… I'm not sure…"

"Think if over. We'll have another meeting come Friday. But remember, Miss Gray, these sorts of opportunities do not come around every day. That I would offer one to you shows a great deal of trust."

"Thank you, Charlotte."

She nodded.

Tessa flopped on Jem's bd. She was supposed to be there so he could help her understand math, but so far all she's done was detail her meeting with Charlotte. "She said I have to give her an answer by Friday. What do I say?"

"Talk it through. Why would you not do it?"

She tapped her fingers on his burgundy sheet covers. "I guess it's because… well… Nate."

"Your brother?"

"In a letter he said he'd been deep in a club, that that's how he'd found out about Mom and Dad. And now, the club that picked me up is under investigation. Jem, I didn't tell them that the Dark sisters had a letter from Nate. What if they find him?"

"Well, the Law is hard, but it _is_ the Law."

"I guess I'm just scared… that they'll find Nate, and find him guilty. As much as he's done, or not done, I don't want him locked up."

"You love him," Jem said simply.

Tessa swallowed hard. "I guess I do."

Jem tossed her a grin. "So. Math?"

Tessa slid in behind Will in French.

He turned around. "So I heard you've got a decision to make."

"Of course Jem told you."

"What kind of brother would he be if he didn't? …So Whatcha gonna do?"

"I don't know yet."

"Don't you have to give an answer by today?"

"Tomorrow, at some point."

"What's keeping you back? From here, I don't see a downside. Not that I know the whole story."

"Just what I told Jem, right?" Tessa said bitterly.

"Hey. Jem is the best friend anyone could ever ask for. He would never share anything he thought was private. Count yourself lucky he's listening."

"I didn't mean to bash Jem. It's just difficult to get used to two so different people sharing a brain."

Will winked. "Some things we keep secret."

"Mr. Herondale." Madame Belcourt's voice cut through the classroom in a thick French accent. "Care to share?"

"Je expliquais seule le nature vampirique de ta beauté à notre élève nouvelle, Madame," Will simpered.

Madame Belcourt scowled at him. "Jeune Will, si tu veaux passer ma classe, tu vas enlever ta langue de ton impudence ou tu vas trouver que ma aboyer n'est pas trop mal que ma morsure. Je suis in vampire, après tous." The smile she shot in his direction was so pointed a threat that when her long manicured fingers shot out to grab that day's workbook, Tessa flinched.

"You'll get used to her," Will whispered.

At the end of class, Tessa nearly ran out of the classroom, her head swimming with verbs and vocabulary she should have memorised years ago, according to Belcourt, who was suggesting either extra lessons to catch up, or that she drop the course altogether.

Will grabbed her backpack and slowed her retreat. "You're fine. She's like that to everyone, in the beginning."

"I've taken like three French classes. How I am I supposed to catch up?"

"I'll tutor you. Haven't you heard? I'm pretty good with languages. How about Saturdays?"

"Well if I do the thing with the police…"

"About that. What's holding you back?"

"I just… my brother's all tangled up in it. What if he's the victim? What if he was taken and they're holding him captive and he's in trouble and he needs me?"

"Ask yourself. You know your brother. Is it likely he'd be in that kind of situation? What was he doing here?"

Tessa bit her lip, blushing. "…gambling," she said in a small voice. "Drinking. But he said he straitened himself out."

"Could he have fallen back into that pattern? You know, if he ever _was_ on the straight and narrow."

"No. No. Yes. But I want to find him anyways. He's my only family."

"Even if he's wrecked?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"That's toxic. Maybe you should work with the police anyways." Tessa flinched at the bite in his voice. "Then, when they find him fucked up in the pandemonium club, you can look him in the eyes and you'll see what should have been obvious to anyone: when someone's bad, _stay away._ "

Tessa sat down in Charlotte's office Friday afternoon.

"So Miss Gray, have you come to a decision?"

Tessa thought about Jem and his quite conviction of her love for her brother. She thought of Will, of his warning and his flight.

"I'll do it."

 **YAY! So I actually wrote a chapter somehow! I think its because I died on a math test today (there's actually a good chance I failed it) so I didn't want to do anymore homework. That's also why there's the little math help bit, cuz I seriously could have used a Jem to tutor me this weekend. Or Will. I'm not picky.**

 **A note on the French! I'm just a student, and a relatively mediocre one, so sorry for any mistakes. The exchange should be:  
** ** _W:_** _I was just explaining the vampiric nature of your beauty to our newest student, Madame.  
_ _ **B:**_ _Young Will. If you want to pass my class, you will remove that tongue from your cheek, or find that my bite is far worse than my bark. After all, I am a vampire."  
_ **R &R PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! Any time someone leaves a little note it makes my whole day.  
xoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**


	9. 9: Truth, Trust, Tenacity

**Look at me go! Holidays are here and I can write at last… Here we meet Gideon, Will does something nice, and Jem gets jealous.**

Saturday morning, Tessa waited anxiously in the parking lot. She was planning to hand out resumes that afternoon, and in an effort to look hireable she had worn a long grey skirt, a black blouse, and a jean jacket, all borrowed from Sophie. Slung over her shoulder was a little black bag held a collection of change, a copy of Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and a black folding umbrella. Tucked under her arm was a burgundy folder with crisp copies of her resume. With Charlotte's permission, she had listed the Institute as a contact, having no cell phone of her own. She had created an email only the day before, that she could use on the school computers. Still, there was little of herself she could put on paper. She had no work experience, no extra-curriculars, not even a proper transcript. She hated the idea of a pity hire, but her cover letter had included that she needed to the money to pay her tuition.

"Nervous, Gray?" Gabriel asked, sidling up beside her. He pinched her cheek. "You're looking a little pale."

She slapped his hand away.

"That's my father." He pointed to a black Audi that pulled in. The driver hopped out and held open the door. "Get in Gabriel. Father's in a mood and I don't want to be late on top of that. Who's this? Never mind. Your girlfriend has to stay."

"I'm _not_ his girlfriend. Heaven forbid."

"One with sense then," he remarked dryly. "Gabriel, who is she."

"Charlotte's new pet. She's coming to the station today. Apparently she can help with the pandemonium case."

"Fine. Get in."

Gabriel slid into the front seat as his brother stalked back to the driver's side, leaving Tessa to clamber into the back. The moment her door shut, the car zipped off.

"I'm Theresa Gray," she supplied the silence. "But everyone called me Tessa." She didn't even catch the past tense that slid out.

"Well Miss Gray, I'm Gideon Lightwood." His manners were stiff, bitter.

"Nice to meet you."

Silence fell thick within the car.

"What is it this time?" Gabriel asked in a smaller voice than she had ever heard.

"He went out last night."

Gabriel nodded. "Is it any better?"

"The drugs are keeping it at bay. For now."

The car pulled up some ten silent minutes later outside a low grey building. "Get out. I'll park."

Gabriel nodded, sliding from the car and closing the door sharply. "Are you coming?" he asked through the open window.

Tessa bit her lip and followed, careful to avoid shutting her skirt in the car door. She clutched her purse and followed Gabriel into the station.

"Jem, I'm going out!" Will called through the bathroom door.

Jem swallowed. "Okay! Where to?"

"Around. Do you need me to stop by the hospital?"

"I should be alright."

"I'll try to go anyway."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

"Yeah. I might not be back for dinner. Don't wait for me."

The dorm door shut.

In the bathroom, Jem turned off the shower, sunk on his knees before the toilet. He coughed again, blood dribbling down his chin. His hands shook as he fumbled for the wooden box that held his medicine. He ran his fingers over the silvery powder. It stuck to them, iridescent ashes. A spot of red fell into the box, striking in its contrast. Angrily wiping away the blood on his chin with his shoulder, he slammed the lid shut.

"Miss Gray, would it be alright if I were to read the last few letters you received from your brother?"

"I… I don't have them on me." Not that she was sure she'd give them if she did. They were personal, the only piece of her brother she had left. But then, she'd hate to be accused of withholding evidence. "I can bring it next week if you'd like."

"Yes please. Can you tell me what you remember?" The policeman interviewing her had a little badge on his chest proclaiming him 'chief'. He said his name was Josiah Wayland, and he had been terribly polite.

"He said that he had been gambling, but had quit. That he was employed by a man named Mortmain." She swallowed. "That Mortmain had given him enough money to pay his way out of the club."

"Pandemonium Club?"

She nodded.

Josiah beckoned another man over and whispered in his ear. The other man nodded crisply and strode away. Josiah leaned towards her, his elbows resting on his knees. "We need your help. To try to get in contact with the club. With your brother."

Tessa tucked one stray strand of hair behind her ear. The London weather had made it damp and frizzy, near uncontrollable. "Because you think that he's still involved in the club. Even though he said he left."

"Miss Gray, it is our understanding that no one ever really _leaves_ the Pandemonium Club. You can, as your brother says he did, buy your way out, and they'll leave you alone for a time. But one always leads back to another, the club to the member, the member to the club. If you can find Nate, he'll either have stepped back enough to aid us, or be still involved enough that we can track them down anyways."

"I don't have any way to contact him."

Wayland gave her a little, triumphant smile. Her statement was as good as an agreement to him. "We can help. As might your little friend over there." He nodded in the direction of the window, where a head of dark, lightly curling hair was visible through the glass. As if sensing their stares, Will turned and winked.

Tessa bit her lip. "I'll bring the letters next Saturday. I can't promise to do more than that, but…"

"Thank you Miss Gray." He rose, shaking her hand. "Until next week."

She blushed at the formality. "Yeah… see ya."

Will grinned at her as she came into the lobby. "So. Did you tell them all about my astonishing bravery?"

Tessa frowned. "Actually… it didn't come up."

"Did you tell them that you were chained to a bed by the dark sisters?"

"They… they seemed to already know. I was asked if I wanted first to speak to a therapist or something, sort myself out. But I hate shrinks."

"Those who need them always do."

Tessa scowled at him. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I heard you were job hunting after this little adventure, and thought you might like to use my astonishing good looks to secure you a position."

She quirked an eyebrow.

"I actually have an idea already, you know, since the police don't really pay. It's this adorable little place called 'Metropolis'. Sort of a restaurant. And they're always hiring—at least, they will when they get a look at you."

"Okay. Okay. I could be a waitress. Show me."

And hour later, Tessa slammed the door on Will. "You want me to be a stripper? A _fucking stripper!?_ " she punched his arm, hard. "What the hell, Will?"

Will was doubled over laughing in the doorway. "You're face! When you saw the afternoon show! I almost died from laughing."

Tessa's eyes were flint and steel. "No. You almost died because I almost killed you."

Will snorted again, his face twisted against his smile. "You have to admit, that was pretty great."

"I don't have to admit anything. I'll see you in math." She turned on her heel and stalked away.

"It's maths," Will corrected as he wandered after her.

"Look, if you're not going to be helpful, just leave."

"Actually, I do have this friend, who's Dad happens to have a cousin that's hiring. It's much more to your taste."

"Will. Please."

Suddenly, Will was right beside her, his hand on her elbow. "Are you… crying?"

She tugged away from him. "I have to find a job today, I at least have to hand out resumes. Just go, Will. Just go."

"Hey, hey Tessie, it's—"

" _Don't_ call me that!"

"I'm sorry. Do you uh… do you want to talk?"

"No."

"Do you want a donut?"

"No."

"Do you really want me to leave?"

"…No." Tessa fiddled with Sophie's skirt. "A donut actually sounds pretty okay."

Will sent a small smile tripping in her direction. "Camille's it is. They make this cinnamon twist that is literally to die for."

Sophie knocked on Will and Jem's door. "Hello?"

"It's unlocked," came the reply.

Sophie bit her lip, checking her reflection in the silver tray she carried. "Jem. Hi."

He smiled at her a little. "Hi. Charlotte checking up on me again?"

Sophie set the tray on the little coffee table. "You know she just wants you to be okay."

"Well we all know that's not going to happen."

Sophie cleared her throat. Jem looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Charlotte actually sent me to see if I could get your temperature? And also to make sure you have enough of what you need."

"I think I should be okay. Besides, Will said he might stop to get more today."

"Is he authorized?" Her eyes widened. "Shit, I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry."

"No it's fine. Will is one of four people who are allowed to sign for my…medicine, the others being Charlotte, Henry, and myself."

"Right. I'm sorry."

"No need. But my temperature?"

Sophie tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yes. Right. The thermometer's just here…"

"It's because of Nate," Tessa said around her pastry.

Will just nodded.

"He uuh… He's always been a little difficult. But he's why I'm here. He sent me a ticket. But I haven't seen him, haven't heard from him. And now the police, they want to find him too. But for all the wrong reasons. They want his letters, they want to talk about him, talk to him. They want me to find him. But I don't know how. I don't even know if I want to, 'cause I'm finally starting to feel okay, you know? And there's a party of me that's guilty, because I don't even know if I miss him, the real him." She took another bite. "Anyway, the whole thing's got me pretty emotional, which is stupid. But I'm sorry you had to see it."

Will glanced down at her, at the flush on her cheeks and the clumps in her eyelashes and the focus in her storm grey eyes. "It'll be okay." He threw up a wall against the faces that crashed through his mind. "I get it."

 **R &R!  
I'm too tired to write a proper comment (its somewhere around midnight) but happy holidays!  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	10. 10: Flirt(ing?)

**Ring in 2017 the right way- with a new chapter! There's a fire in the grate, my cat is sitting on my keyboard, my sister's boyfriend is making hot chocolate, and I can't leave the house because the ground is covered in about three inches of solid ice. Seems like the right time to proverbially set pen to paper.  
I haven't said this in awhile, so to protect myself from some typa court case, rights to Cassandra Clare (:**

"I got a job!" Tessa grinned, running down the hall in Fell House, the boys' dormitory, and banging on door 14. "Will! Jem! Open the door!"

"Five more minutes!" There came a thump. "Jem, get the bloody door. Jem please. I guarantee its for you, no calls for me before eight." There was a muffled thump. "James Tenshuaka Carstairs! Manners!"

"You missed a syllable William. Get the door."

A few more muffled curse words, and the door opened to show a thoroughly disgruntled, extremely shirtless, and entirely pissed Will. That is, until he saw who was at the door. Then his eyes brightened. "Good morning, sunshine," he drawled, leaning against the door frame.

"Everybody decent?" Tessa asked, breezing into the bedroom. "Nice boxers, by the way," she smiled.

Will glanced down. "Thanks. I like to think they're sperm whales."

"Everything's an innuendo with you, isn't it." Tessa hopped onto the desk, her stockinged feet swinging, as she was already in her school clothes. "Good morning Jem."

"We _are_ talking about my underwear here," Will replied, shutting the door. "I've shown you mine—you show me yours?"

Tessa twitched an eyebrow, beckoning him closer. "Well, there's not a lot to tell," she whispered in his ear. "You see, there's not a lot to them." She heard his breath hitch, and smiled. "But they're a pale purple one could almost call lavender. And you see, I have this love affair with lace, so there's rather a lot of that." She leaned even closer so her breath fell on his ear. "And there's this little bow…" she sighed. Her eyes locked with Jem, and she winked.

Jem burst out laughing. "My god Will, she had you so good. Its not even eight and, well, you've raised the flag, haven't you."

Will, blushing, covered it with a smirk. "A good screw, Jem. That's what you need."

"Apparently, you too."

Will threw a slipper at the other boy. "I'm going to have a shower." He slammed to dorm room door shut.

"He's not going to jack off in the communal showers, is he?"

"What, wank? Wouldn't be the first time, would it. What'd you say to him?"

"Just described my undies, that's all."

"A word of it true?"

"Not one."

Jem snorted. "But you said you have news? You better have, if you woke everyone up. But then, that little show might just have been worth it."

"No, I do!" Tessa was grinning again, bouncing off the desk. "I got a job! A real job! I mean, its not at a library or anything—apparently they get all the help they need through volunteer work—but it's at a coffee shop that's not too far from campus, so I can do one day after school as well as weekends, and, I've calculated it, since I get paid minimum, if I work 18 hours a week—which is totally doable, I think—then I get around 60 pounds a week, which means 240 a month, which means that, in the next eight months or so of school left, I will make nearly two _thousand_ pounds, which will pay, well, some of my tuition. And that's not counting the extra shifts I can take on holidays and breaks and stuff. I mean, Charlotte said I'd have to get a job if I want to stay, and so!" She grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. "Aren't you excited for me!"

Jem flushed as the covers fell away to reveal his shirtless chest and low riding pajama bottoms, but Tessa was too excited to notice. She gripped him in a brief, tight hug. "Uh, wow Tess," Jem tugged a shirt over his head. "That's great. Really, that's awesome."

Tessa was practically singing. "I get to stay, I get to stay!" She picked up his hands and danced him in a little circle. "We have to celebrate. How does one do that at a boarding school?"

Jem grinned. "Will might be the expert on this, but, typically, one has a party."

"Well, seeing as I have no money, no alcohol, few friends, and a scholarship to keep, that might not be a go. But I'll think of something."

She opened the door and blew a kiss to Jem. "Anyway, just wanted you to know first."

Jem smiled at her. "It's really awesome Tessa. Way to go."

As she shut the door, Jem buried his face in his palm. "Way to go? What the hell Jem. Real smooth."

Will slid back into the room, his hair dripping on the wood floor. "Everything okay? Tessa looked stupidly happy."

"Oh yeah, she got a job."

A grin broke out across Will's face. "Did she really! Oh I passed her in the hall and didn't say a thing. I've got to go congratulate her, I'll be right back."

He dumped his towel and shower caddy on the floor and hurried back out the door.

"And that," Jem said to himself as the door shut once more, "is what you should have done."

As the lunch bell rang, an announcement came on the speakers. "Theresa Gray to the principle's office. Theresa Gray to the principle's office please."

Tessa glanced over at Sophie, who was in her English class. It turned out that she only worked for Charlotte in her spare periods and after school, as a way of subsidizing her scholarship.

"She seemed in a good mood this morning," Sophie shrugged. "So unless you've done something awful in the last four hours…" She shrugged. "Good luck."

"Yeah," Tessa swallowed, gathering her books. "Thanks."

"Mrs. Branwell will see you now," said the strangely formal woman at the office desk, her voice as tight as her slicked bun, as Tessa bounced on the sides of her feet in the office five minutes later.

Tessa smiled. "Thanks." The door creaked slightly on its hinges as she opened it. "Uh… hi."

"Hello Tessa. Have a seat, please." Charlotte was all smiles and easy manners, so Tessa didn't think anything was wrong. "I heard you got a job."

"Yeah! It's at the coffee shop, _Bits and Pieces_ , just off campus."

"Yes I know. You put me down as one of your references."

Tessa flushed. "Was that okay?"

"Oh yes, perfectly fine. And since you have a job, I can assume you're committed to staying at the institute?" Charlotte quirked a brow.

"Yes. Absolutely yes. Very committed."

"Well, in that case, I suppose it's time we set you up with your roommate."

"Why not before now?"

"Well…" Charlotte stirred her tea. "She's a bit… particular."

"She's an absolute nightmare!" Tessa complained that evening, sprawled in Jem's bed. "Honestly, I don't know how I'm going to live with her for the next year. You two are so lucky you got roomed with each other."

Jem and Will glanced at each other, and both started laughing. "We hated each other at first," Will said.

"That's a bit strong. _You_ hated _me_. I just wanted to be friends."

"You were a lonely bugger, weren't you."

"And you, a moody wanker."

"Ah, to be back in first year," Will said, and the two boys sighed.

"All to say," Jem continued. "You shouldn't make any snap judgements about your roommate. You might end up being friends."

"What did you say her name was?"

Tessa wrinkled her nose. "Jessamine Lovelace."

"Oh god," Will put a hand over his face. "You're shitting me. Really?"

Tessa frowned nodding.

"So basically, you're screwed."

"C'mon Will, she's not that bad." Jem turned to Tessa. "Just a bitter ex girlfriend."

"Jem," Will said quite seriously, "Jem, she wanted to be a singer, but can't sing for shit. So she tried to be a model, but they said she was too thin, so she binge ate, and the next agency said she was too fat. So she said, 'fuck it, I'll just be a prostitute,' and since she was already a whore, it wasn't that far off. And we didn't date, we hooked up once, at a Halloween party, after which she stalked me through the park in 800 euro shoes, the whole time complaining about how I was ruining them and better buy her new ones, because how else was she supposed to catch an older man if her best shoes were wrecked. That bitch is crazy."

Tessa groaned. "Well… fuck."

Tessa knocked on the door of her new dorm, a backpack on her back, balancing a milk crate with a pair of shoes and a couple books on her hip. "Hello?"

The door opened in a flurry of pink. Jessamine offered her a soft smile, her hot pink silk dressing robe settling at the tops of her thighs. "Tessa! Perfectly on time, too. I can see we're going to be fast friends." She grabbed the crate from Tessa. "Please, come in come in! They brought the other bed in only a bit earlier, and I'm afraid I haven't quite reorganised, but it'll be quite cozy, I think, once we've got it sorted. Oh I'm so excited!"

"You are?"

"Aren't you? This is perfect. You're new, you're American, you're mysterious. We'll have fun, I'm sure of it."

Tessa looked around at the walls papered in a soft cream shade of floral silk, and the heavy, dark wooden furniture that lined the room, the ornate navy blue rug on the floor, shot through with gold. A small crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The whole room was tastefully opulent, but the blatant display of wealth made Tessa a little sick to her stomach.

"Come, come, sit. We have to get to know each other! You're looking a bit better since I saw you at breakfast that first day. A little less yellow. Is London treating you well?"

Tessa squirmed. "I suppose."

"Fantastic. And you've been shopping I see, gotten out of that little pinafore you had before. Though I do wish you'd taken me. We could've found you something much nicer than… this."

Tessa glanced down at Sophie's jeans and her school sweater. "I haven't had the chance to shop yet, so Sophie was kind enough to lend these to me."

"Oh well, we simply must go. How's Saturday?"

"Can't, I'm sorry. I have my first shift."

Jessamine looked taken aback. "Oh? You work? Where?"

Tessa smiled. This girl would probably never work a proper day in her life. "At _Bits and Pieces._ "

"Oh adorable, I love that shop. Are you a barista then?"

"We'll see. As I said, my first shift is Saturday. Eight to Two."

"Right. How about after that?"

"I have to go to the police station. I'm helping them find my brother."

Jessamine grinned, smelling gossip like a cat smells a rat. "The police are after you're brother?"

"No." No way in hell was Tessa going to tell Jessamine anything about her family. Though, looking back, she knew a fair bit already, given how indiscreet Tessa had been at breakfast that first morning she was at the Institute. "They're just looking for him. After all, I suppose I reported him missing, didn't I."

Jessamine opened her mouth, then closed it with a smile. "So evening shopping then? We can go for dinner, get some clothes that fit, a new bra, something to wear to a party? I'll pick you up form the station whenever you call."

Tessa fiddled with the sheets still folded on her bed. "Thanks Jessamine, really, but… I haven't any money."

Jessamine grinned. "No worries. My treat."

"Axel, Hi." Charlotte welcomed the small man into her office. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. And you?"

"Fine, thank you. What brings you here today?"

"Come now Charlotte," Mortmain smiled, "we both know why I'm here." He pulled a chequebook from his pocket and waved it in the air.

"Well, another donation to our engineering and auto department maybe? The automaton project was a great idea by the way. The kids are loving it."

"I was thinking this time, the library. How about expanding the classics section? Round it out wit ha few more tragedies… Tolstoy, I was thinking. Hardy. A new sofa set."

Charlotte smiled. "We're always looking to expand the library. Any contribution would be huge."

"Right, right." He scribbled out a cheque, and slid it across the desk like in an old movie.

Charlotte's eyebrows swam up her forehead, but she just nodded. "Thank you, Axel. That's very generous."

He leaned forward across the desk. "Now. How's my star pupil doing?"

"Well. Very well. She's got a job, she just moved in with her new roommate, any teachers that have reported have said all good things. She _has_ fallen in with a few trouble makers, but, well, Will's more sass than real harm. Things are looking quite good for Miss Gray."

Mortmain folded his hands in his lap. "Good. Excellent."

"May I ask… what is your relation to her?"

He smiled, baring small teeth in a textbook curve of the lips. "Nothing of import. Just someone who hopes for her to succeed."

 **HEcks ya! Happy New years eve! Who's ready to see the death of 2017!? I mean, it hasn't been that bad a year for me, personally, but I'll be glad to see the back of it. This chapter ended up being a little more… not racy really, but raunchy? I'm going to pin it on my last little binge of Skam and Skins—two shows I absolutely recommend, incidentally.  
Anyways, R&R please!  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	11. 11: Dresses and Bathing Suits

**Tessa vs. Jessamine… need I say more? Oh wait- quality fun time with the boys :D**

Tessa felt as though she was crawling by the time she left the police station around 4:30 on Saturday evening. Josiah had combed through every details of the letters, over and over again asking about Nate's habits in New York, his mannerisms, secrets, hideouts, until Tessa felt she might as well have become him. But her day wasn't over yet. Jessamine idled outside, the to on her white Mercedes down so vague pop could be heard bouncing from the speakers. Tessa waved half-heartedly.

"God, you look awful," Jessamine frowned as the other girl opened the door. "You look almost like you did when I first met you."

This was an exaggeration. Her skin was less yellow, and her face and body were beginning to fill out with a regular diet. Still, there were grey circles under her eyes, and her cheeks were pale.

"First stop—Sephora." Jessamine grinned as the car screamed away. "Then Victoria's Secret. By the angel you need help. You're so lucky you met me." She tugged on the cardigan Tessa was still borrowing from Sophie with a scrunched up nose."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"It's just you could really use help-"

"No uh… 'by the angel?'"

Jessamine waved her off. "Oh, it's just something my mom used to say."

Tessa nodded, trying the words on her tongue. "By the angel."

"That's it. Then, I was thinking we should get you some stockings for school days, a pair of jeans or leggings, a bag, a few shirts, and something… nice. You know, in case you get invited to a party."

It was nearly curfew by the time they arrived back on campus, and the metal gates slid shut behind them. Weekend curfew, which applied Friday and Saturday night, meant that though students were required on campus after 9:30pm, there weren't required dorm checks until the following morning at eleven. It was left to the night patrol, students and staff wandering the school after hours, to keep the noise down.

Jessamine parked her car in the small student lot and pulled out her iPhone. Moments later, Thomas came hurrying up, scowling. He raised an eyebrow. "Miss Lovelace? Miss Gray?"

"Yes, Thomas. We have rather a lot of bags. I was hoping you could help us to carry them to our room?""

Tessa, who had become rather uncomfortable with the interaction, protested, but Jessamine shot her a pointed look, and she fell quiet. Thomas grabbed a number of the largest bags.

"I can't get into Belle Court," he said, starting off down the path, "but I'll help you to the door."

"Thank you so much. Really." Tessa smiled, hustling after him and nearly dropping a shoe box.

He held her gaze for a moment, eyes startlingly bright, then they fell to her apparel. "Nice sweater." A genuine compliment, she thought.

"It's Sophie's."

Something like gratification flitted across Thomas' face.

"I'll pass it along thought," Tessa suggested.

"No need. Here, let me take this." He grabbed the precarious shoe box, and quickened his pace. Jessamine, who had been a few steps behind, took this as her opportunity, and sped up to walk next to him, completely secure in both herself and her four inch heels, and flirting like mad. Thomas was pretty cute, Tessa supposed, and his shoulders were nice and broad. But he wasn't supremely educated, and he wasn't crazy wealthy…

Thomas dropped the bags outside of Belle Court, the all-girls dormitory, and strode away, his head down.

Inside their room, Tessa was about ready to collapse on the bed, but Jessamine insisted she try on her findings. As she struggled with the zipper on a small blue dress, Tessa asked, "So Thomas, huh?"

"What of it?"

"I just… I didn't think he was your type."

"Because he's not wealthy? My god but you're a snob."

"No, I-"

"Not everyone comes from money, Tessa. Not everyone has the opportunities we do. We can't discount them for it."

"I know, I-" Tessa was fighting back an anger that made her skin feel like it was bubbling.

Jessamine turned to tuck a hair behind her ear, then pinned it up with a silver clip. "In fact, we may even have cause to envy them. That's always how it is in movies. There's the lonely wealthy, and the happy lower class. Thomas may not have an Oxford education, but he also won't have that sugary sweetness that's so fake about everyone who doesn't know what real life is like. He'll have a little house, and a little wife, and they'll raise little children, in a perfect, beautiful way that is just like their neighbours, and their neighbours' neighbours. They'll be normal."

Tessa frowned. "Would you prefer to not have any money? Because I assure you, its not so fun."

"Well, you're here too. Someone's paying for it. What would you know of being normal? Of I marry an average man – any man would do, really – he'll love me and I'll love him, and he'll work and I'll keep house, and our children will go to public school and socialise with those they please." She spritzed her neck with Chanel perfume. "That dress looks absolutely marvelous on you, by the way. We should shop again sometime."

"Kickboxing," Tessa breathed as she pushed open the gym door, completely clad in Lululemon athletic wear courtesy of Jessamine. "How hard can it be?"

There were piles of equipment around the room—gloves, punching pads, bags, a little ring, and a foam corner. One wall was entirely made of mirrors.

"All the martial arts are taught in here," Sophie explained.

Tessa turned to her, grinning in surprise. "I didn't know you took this class!"

"Yeah, apparently filing wasn't getting me the physical activity I needed. Charlotte insisted."

"Well, it's lucky for me you're here. They said we'd be taught by seniors or something. Just the basics."

"I'm sure that's all you'll manage."

"Gabriel." Tessa frowned as he came in, wearing black athletic gear, his grey eyes sparkling.

"Happy to see me? You're looking well today Sophie. You work the whole 'cripple' angle well."

"Gabriel, lay off." Gideon pushed through the double doors, and Tessa thought she heard Sophie's breath catch. He certainly cut a striking figure – tall, broad, tawny and strong. "You'll be working with Tessa. You," he jerked his head at Sophie, "with me."

As she followed him towards the foam corner, Tessa heard her say, "I'm not a cripple."

Two long hours later, the girls left the gym, sweaty and bruised.

"Looking lovely ladies," Will grinned.

Tessa flipped him off. She had held her own against Gabriel in the first few matches of the free for all Gabriel had started with, but as the lesson wore on, her lack of training became less of a guerilla style asset, and more of a fatal flaw. The last hour had been spent correcting her unconventional (untrained) form, and it had put her in a bad mood. In spite of his absolutely _charming_ greeting, Gabriel had turned out to be a sound an patient teacher, and obviously, an expert in what he taught. Gideon, she hoped, had proved the same to Sophie, but the other girl had been quiet since they finished class, and it was hard to tell.

Jem kicked off the wall from where he was leaning behind Will. "I know the temptation may be for a shower, considering…"

"But you must trust us, at least on occasion, no?"

Tessa stared Will down. "Why."

"We're going to-"

Charlotte hurried down the main path not feet from them. "Good morning."

The little group smiled. "Good morning Professor."

Will's eyes followed her away, then he leaned forward again. "Sometimes I like to have a little fun."

Sophie threw her hands up. "You're going to break rules, I can feel it. I won't say a word, but I can't be part of it. Too much at stake. Sorry." She turned and hurried off after Charlotte.

Jem looked worriedly at Tessa. "Too much at stake for you too?"

"It's just a _little_ rule." Will batted his lashed over puppy dog eyes. "One teeny tiiny rule. Please?"

Tessa grinned. "Okay, okay. I'll go." She narrowed her eyes, the winter wind shredding through her leggings and ruffling her sweaty hair, reminding her just how tired she was. "This better be good."

The building Will and Jem led her too was only about a minute from the gym, long and low, with steamy windows across one wall.

"I'm a little worried, I have to admit." Tessa pulled her light sweater tighter around her shoulders. "Are we breaking in?"

"I' m just going to open a door without using a key," Will replied.

"So just Will is going to break in, actually," Jem smiled.

"Technicalities. If Charlotte finds us, we're all in shit."

"Yes Gray. But at least we'll have had some fun."

Will leaned down and pulled a bobby pin from his pocket, which Tessa raised an eyebrow at, but Jem just waved her away. A few moments later, Will had swung the doors open to reveal a tiled entrance hall and two little signs, one that said, 'to women's change room' and the other 'to men's'.

"We're at a swimming pool," Tessa realized.

Will just grinned at her.

"But I don't have my bathing suit."

He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "How about you're birthday suit?"

Tessa smacked him.

"You're wearing your workout clothes. Just go in those." Jem, ever the voice of reason, was headed towards the boys changing room. "Its fine, Will's less of a perv than he seems!"

Tessa's brow furrowed. "Less?" She rounded on the dark eyed boy, who was still grinning at her. "And you? What are you going to wear?"

"Just my pants."

Tessa let out a sigh of relief.

Five minutes later, they were standing at the edge of the pool, steam rising around them. Will had pulled a speaker out of his pocket and was playing some obscene modern pop. To this, he dramatically pulled his shirt over his head, a tossing his hair and showing off his abs. Jem had, far more quietly, done the same, and Tessa, a moment later, had pulled off her sweatshirt to reveal her sports bra, to much hooting and whistling from Will. She was testing the water with her toes when Will started to pull off his pants.

"Woah what? I thought you were swimming in your pants!"

"Yeah, my pants. Not my trousers."

Tessa rubbed her eyes. "Slang. I should have guessed." She jumped off the edge and into the water, gasping as the cold seeped into her. As she rubbed the water from her eyes, she prayed the boys would have followed her lead, and be in the water by now, but both were still standing on the edge of the pool. She tried to keep her eyes from their chests, their perfectly muscled bodies, Jem slightly leaner than Will, but just as defined, but found it nearly impossible. Will pushed Jem, and he stepped to the edge of the deck and dove in, barely a splash, toes pointed. As he surfaced, Will chuckled. "Nice, nice. I give it a… seven. Maybe a seven and a half."

Jem scoffed, splashing. "Seven and a half? That was perfect!" He turned to smile at Tessa. "Asshole."

"Perhaps," Will said loudly from the edge, "but can you do this?" He sprang up into the air, catlike, and spread his arms in a perfect swan dive, legs straight out behind him, then arced into the water.

"Nine." Tessa said as he breached, shaking his hair. "Points of for pretentiousness. And you didn't point your toes."

"Touché," Will replied. "Do I get to try again? Or do we try the slides."

Jem and Tessa glanced at each other, then said in unison, "The slides."

Tessa's hair dripped on the brick path as the boys walked her back to Belle Court. "I can't believe we did that."

"Welcome to the genius of Will Herondale."

"And we didn't get caught!"

"No we did not. Just as I said, all part of my genius."

Jem dodged a spray of water from Will's hair as he shook his head. " _I_ can't believe you took Will out on the slide."

"It was one time!"

"Yeah, but you jumped between slides just so that Jem would win! You sabotaged the race! You cheated!"

"But is it really cheating if you're not cheating for yourself?"

"Yes!" Will looked absolutely indignant, hands waving in the air. "I call foul."

Tessa shook her head. "Will, you'd won the last three. Really, not sharing the glory was foul. Me and Jem teaming up to get a victory—that was fair."

"You little shits." Will rounded on Jem. "You were in on this! This was a plan?"

Jem just smiled. "The door to Belle Court. Goodnight, Tessa."

"Night."

Jem turned and began to walk away. Will was still talking over his shoulder. "We're supposed to be _best friends_. Traitor!" He turned and waved to Tessa, shouting a quick "G'night!" before he was back at Jem. "We're more than friends, more even than brothers. We've _bonded our souls_. I can't believe you would do this to me!"

Tess turned and slipped into the dorm. Jessamine opened the door when she knocked. "What happened to you?"

Tess flushed. "I uh… I went out."

"With Heronstairs, I'm sure."

"Heronstairs?"

"It's a combination of their last name, since they're joined at the hip."

"I like it. Herondale, Carstairs. Heronstairs."

"Right. But did you have sex in the showers or something? You look too happy."

Tessa laughed. "No. No sex. No shower. But man, I could use one right now. I'm cold."

Jessamine raised an eyebrow, then inspected Tessa's wet hair. "Your ends are dry. If you wait one minute, I'll grab you my damage repair shampoo. You could really use some help."

Tessa grimaced. "Thanks."

 **So I had big plans for this chapter but it kind of turned into a fluffy filler? Fun to write, but yeah sorry if you were hoping for real time plot. I'm just having fun with this, toodling my way along. I wish I could update more often, but this weird phenomenon called life keeps getting in the way.  
R&R!  
xoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoo**


	12. 12: Parties are Fun, Right?

**I got a review that made me want to write, but I had my math midterm in between, and then life got busy and fell apart, so this is later than I would have liked.**

It snowed the first day of November. Nor proper snow, fat flakes dusting the ground, dampening the quiet, like it always did in the countryside in movies. This snow was thick and iron gray as the clouds from which it fell. It had barely landed before it melted, but students were standing outside in droves, faces turned skywards, mouths open. Their uniforms were soaking across the shoulders, girls pushing each other and laughing, boys hanging against the side of the building, leaning against the walls as their hair fell from carefully gelled quiffs.

Tessa stared out of the window of her room, her mind back in a different set of grays.

 _"_ _Tessie," Nate slurred, his breath thumping through the payphone receiver. "In a box in Aunties closet, there's a box." Someone in the background hooted. "Sh'up Davis!" Nate shouted. "I need you t' come an t'bring it." He giggled. "I'mwithma boyys!" There came down the line a smack as the receiver was dropped, then the buzzing of the dial tone._

 _Tessa pulled her boots in in two sharp tugs. "Aunty, I'm going out!" she called._

 _Harriet sat in the other room, sipping tea and brandy from the day bed, her cheeks pale. "Bring him back safe."_

 _Tessa slammed the door._

 _It was six blocks to Nate's typical bar, and at night they were flickering neon lights and catcalls. The first time she'd walked, it had felt miles. But she was fifteen now, and had been dragging Nate home at all hours from all places for years._

 _Nate was outside when she got there, leaning up against the smoke-stained wall. He lurched towards her with a grin. "Tessie!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Did ya bringwhatIasked?"_

 _"_ _Nate."_

 _"_ _C'mon Tessie. I'll pay ya back. Iss just theboysaredesp erate. Pleeeease."_

 _"_ _We'dtakesomethingelse if you cannee pay. Pre'y lil lass, aren'tya." One of the other boys grinned at her, his teeth dark and cracking. There were gouges in his neck from scratching, and scars like chicken pox across his face. His thick Scottish accent was unmuffled by the alcohol he had so obviously been drinking._

 _"_ _Shove off, Mickey," Nate said. "Unless she asks for it."_

 _"_ _Whatayasay. You askin'?"_

 _Tessa fought back the urge to slap him. Nate's friends were a lot bigger than she was, and with whatever was in their systems, they were likely volatile. Besides, Mickey was far from the crudest of Nate's associations. He had come for dinner once, when they were younger. Apparently he was named after his father's favourite drink size. Harriet loved him. Or she had._

 _"_ _No I'm not." She grabbed Nate firmly around the middle, draping his arm around her shoulders, and began to drag him away._

 _"_ _Rescued by thelittlewoman!" One of the others called as the left. "I'll still be needing a pay out!"_

 _Nate breathed in her hair. "You sure smell nice Tessie," he mumbled. "What shampoo?" Then he threw up at her feet, all over her shoes. Later, she had to bleach them to get the smell out, so they became grey too. Gray like the walls, like the sky, like Nate's hair in the streetlamp light._

Tess pulled up the hood on the jacket she had bought when out with Jessamine, and headed out into the snow.

Tessa huffed, knee bouncing, as Jessamine filed down the rough edges of her fingernails. "I understand that you're a scholarship student, I do, but that is no excuse not to take care of you nails. I expect you to come to me if you ever need a manicure, a colour, a file." Tessa rolled her eyes. She hadn't touched her nails since before she came to the Institute, and even before then, before Nate left, she'd never been the type to obsess over her appearance.

"Jessamine, I really appreciate this, but… how much longer do you think this is going to take?"

"You need to take better care of your cuticles too. They're creeping up your nail beds. It will be harder to paint designs now."

"It's just that Jem said he would tutor me in math, and last time I missed it because Gabriel kept me late at the gym, and I have a test tomorrow that I'm really stressing about."

"Tessa dear, math isn't a part of the real world. You'll never get to move out properly if you're head is in a textbook. Your nails, however, you be just what you need to snag a bachelor that will drag you head over heels out of _this_ -" she waved her hand at their room, the creamy bedsheets and product covered vanity, the little chandelier and gold footed nightstand- "and into _this._ " She pointed at the intricate doll house on her desk. It was facing them so as to show off the tiny chintz armchairs in the lounge, the mahogany dresser in the bedroom.

Tessa had heard more about the doll house than she ever would have liked. It was Jessamine's pride and joy, an exact replica of the house she had lived in with her parents before their untimely accident in their private plane, and her exile, as she called it, to boarding school. There were tiny dolls too, 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' together in the kitchen, right now, and baby Jessamine curled up safe in her crib.

"I think I'd prefer my nails plain," Tess sighed. "No designs"

"How about white, with a little gold swirl on the thumb? That will g nicely with your dress for tonight."

"What?"

Jessamine rolled her eyes. "Really Tessa, do you every pay attention? Gabriel's having a party tonight. Well, his father is, but loads of people are going. It's going to be good."

"I really do have to study. I mean, math is a bitch."

"So leave her at home! You promised you'd go with me."

Now that she thought about it, Tessa _did_ remember something about a party. She just hadn't realised it was tonight. And she really didn't want to bail on Jem again- they always had a good time, him somehow making even studying bearable. Next to his easy companionship, a party where she knew hardly anyone sounded practically unbearable. "I'll think about it."

Jessamine huffed.

"It depends how much math I get done this afternoon. You know, the sooner you finish my nails, the sooner I start, the more likely I am to be able to go!"

At last, Jessamine released her hand. "You need to get out more. You've been here nearly three weeks, and despite being my room mate, you're practically unknown. Being friends with Heronstairs helps, but they're just two guys. You need some girlfriends, some memory makers. Study math this afternoon, but tonight? You simply must come."

Tessa sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll try."

Jem huffed, bouncing a knee, as one of the Brothers peered into his eyes with a little light. "You've been taking less," he said, echoing Jem's frantic, guilty thoughts. "It will weaken you." He swished to one of the tables at the edge of the hospital wing. "I'm giving you a new prescription, and some extra _yin fen_ for the time being. Do you need someone to go to the supplier?"

Jem shook his head.

"Take a dose when you get back to your room, one shot." The Brother's thin lips were pinched even further than usual. "Then take a nap. Classes tomorrow should be fine, but you need eight hours of sleep tonight in order to maximize the effectiveness."

Jem stood, accepting the form and package. "Okay."

"This episode weakened you further. It could have been prevented had you taken your proper dosage."

Jem nodded, his jaw clenched. He brushed his silvering hair out of his eyes with long thin fingers.

"You're lucky I'm letting you go home tonight. Someone will check your room periodically to make sure you're still okay."

"Will can do it."

"Someone responsible."

Jem sighed. "Fine. Thank you for your help, Brother."

The older man inclined his head in acceptance, then turned and left the room, robe rustling like leaves in wind.

As the door swung shut behind him, Jem exhaled sharply. He threw the with all his strength at the wall thirty feet away, his breath heaving. It hit with a dull thud and slid, undamaged, to the floor. Jem shut his, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed, calmed his breathing. With measured steps he crossed the room, picked up the package, and returned to his dorm.

Tessa knocked only moments later, her face alight, her arms full of textbooks. Jem grinned. "Good to know you _can_ keep a plan."

"Come on, that was Gabriel being a dick. I'm usually on time and to plan. Well, I'm a little late, but that you can blame on Jessamine."

"Yeah. Nice nails."

Tessa rolled her eyes. "Now. What the hell is a logarithm?"

Will strode through the crowds. The bottom floor was a masquerade, mostly adults in cocktail wear, coattails and sweeping gowns and embroidered masksd. Money was everywhere, in the marble floors and grand stair and soft lighting. In the fabrics of the dresses and the colours of the drinks and the quality of the drugs that were so openly used the police would have to arrest everyone there. Of course, Will knew what he was looking for, so the average passerby might be innocently oblivious.

Halfway up the stair he began to feel the bass, throbbing in his chest. Rounding the corner, the lights turned multicolour and flashed, like a disco, or laser tag, Will couldn't help but think; another display. Already there were kids slumped in the hallway, obviously wasted. A few off the doors were still open, displaying various scenes of undress and discord.

The big room at the end of the hall was the source of the lights and music, and it was full of thrashing teenagers. There was a table at the end covered in hard alcohol and mini sandwiches, manned by a pretty girl with a mane of curly blonde hair, her shoes six inches high and sparkly.

"Will!" he heard somebody shout. "Oh thank god."

He turned. Tessa was fighting her way towards him, her hair slipping from it's up-do. She was wearing a little white dress that was obviously borrowed from Jessamine, as it hugged her every curve in a way he knew she would have protested. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were studying."

"I was, with Jem earlier this afternoon. But he was pretty tired and had some other homework, and Jessamine showed up and dragged me here, so…"

'Pretty tired', Will knew, was what Jem said when he meant 'sick'. He wouldn't stay long, he decided. But Tessa was here, so lovely and happy to see him. He at least should… "Can I get you a drink?"

Tessa swallowed visibly. "I don't really drink. I mean, its fine if you do, I guess, but not for me."

"How about lemonade? No alcohol. I think I saw some at the table."

Tessa smiled gratefully. "Sure. Sure thank you."

"C'mon."

"Lemonade?" She shouted at the girl behind the table, who's heels were now tossed in a corner with the empty bottle, though her tread was no more steady.

"Downstairs!" the girl shouted back, pointing to be sure they understood.

Tessa shook her head at Will.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the hallway, where the noise was significantly reduced. "She said there's lemonade downstairs, yeah?"

"Yeah. Oh well."

"Let's go." He pulled her towards the stairs, where a number of the adult's jackets had been draped over the bannister. He tugged a floor length white throw coat over her shoulders and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Now we'll fit right in."

"We need _these_ to do that," Tessa giggled, pulling two masks from the display vase. Will slipped the black one over his hair, his blue eyes piercing. He held his hand out for hers, suddenly desperate to touch her again. She held very still as he fastened the gold tie around the back of her head, careful not to catch any stray curls. Her hair was silkier than usual, and almost gold. Jessamine's work, he suspected.

"Ready," he breathed.

Tessa smiled over her shoulder at him. "This feels oddly formal."

"Masks are kind of weird, aren't they. Awn ni!"

"I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing 'come on'," Tessa sighed as dragged down the stairs.

"Close," Will grinned. "Directly, I think, it means, 'Let us go,' as in 'Le us go now, you and I.'"

"Eliot."

"You're such nerd, naming poets at party."

"You're more of one, reciting."

Tessa was too busy grinning at Will to look where she was going. She crashed into a small Asian man in a midnight blue velvet suit, glistening buttons done only halfway up to expose rather a lot of golden skin. He blinked, his eyelashes heavily loaded with navy glitter.

Will bit back a smile. "Mr. Bane!"

He smiled back without teeth. "Ah, young Mr. Herondale. What brings you here?"

"Mr. Bane is the psychology teacher at the Institute, among other things. He heads the QSA."

Tessa nodded. "Nice to meet you. I'm Tessa Gray."

"The pleasure is mine."

"Mr. Bane, we're here for the rager upstairs, but why are _you_ here?"

"I'm with my girlfriend. She's much more in favour of this type of event than I am." He waved his drink in their faces, flashing gold nail polish and a number of rings. "The drinks table is to your left, but don't tell anyone I sent you."

"Thanks."

The two turned away, continuing in the indicated direction. "He seems… cool?" Tessa suggested.

"He has his moments, I suppose. You look a little pale. Do you want to sit here a sec, and I'll bring back the drinks?"

"Sure. Thank you."

She watched his retreating back cautiously, sinking onto the plush stool. She scanned to room, people watching, when she thought she saw a familiar set of shoulders. The masked man turned in her direction, and she was sure, suddenly sure. Those blue eyes, that particular shade of blonde hair, the grip he kept on his glass, were all too familiar. Then he scooped into his arms a beautiful girl with silver blonde hair, and swung her around, kissed her. Beneath the mask, she could see the fine boned features she had become well accustomed to during her time at the institute.

Does this look like lemonade to you?" Will asked, returning, and held up two bottles of cold yellow liquid, cracking the lid and smelling one. "Yeah, it is."

"Thank you." She took a small sip.

Will smiled at her. Already he could feel himself relaxing into the fell of her company, the ease of conversation. Talking with her was addictive, her laugh, her posture, the way she'd gripped his hand as they ran down the stairs. He took a sip of his drink, feeling it fizz in his mouth. "We should probably go back upstairs. Its unlikely Ms. Belecourt will be so forgiving if she finds us."

"What makes you say she's here?" Tessa looked distracted, her gaze lost in the crowd.

"Well, as Magnus, or Mr. Bane, said he's here with his girlfriend, and the two are going out, and one plus one tends to equal two…"

"Gotcha." She reached our and grabbed his hand again, and he felt electricity jump across his skin. He didn't let go though.

Upstairs, the music was just as loud, but he could swear it had gotten worse. The lights were playing across Tessa's face, making her mysterious and beautiful. They caught in her hair, her soft hair, playing off her clips like diamonds. He tried to keep his eyes from the top of her dress, from the exposed skin and beauty of her shape. But he couldn't keep his eyes from hers, so alight, from the shape of her lips. Suddenly overwhelmed, he kissed her.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the arms around his neck, the desperate kiss in return. He heard whoops and cheers as he dragged her out onto a balcony and closed the door. She deepened the kiss, her hands playing with his curls, and he wanted to play with her hair too. He pulled the pins out one by one, watching it fall in soft waves around her shoulders. "Beautiful, he grinned across her lips.

She giggled, and pulled him in again. The jacket he had stolen from the railing was on the ground, and then so was her wrap, and he was tugging at the laces up the back of her dress, so old fashioned and inconvenient. He didn't want to stop kissing her, but he had to, for a moment, as her little hands came up to undo the buttons on his shirt. He leaned in and kissed her neck, her collarbone, distracting her, distracting himself, lost in her. He blood was fire in his veins, and he wanted, needed, more.

A mildly amused, distinguished laugh from the doorway drew them apart momentarily. Will turned from where he stood between Tessa and the railing, careful to keep in front of what he was sure was now rather more exposed skin than originally intended. He wiped his lips, grinning. "Mr. Bane."

"You had to have the lemonade, didn't you."

Tessa peered over Will's shoulder. "What?"

"It's got molly in it. Come on, I'll call you a cab back to the institute."

Tessa pulled tighter the laces on the back of her dress, tugging up the neckline and smoothing her hair self consciously. She blushed.

"Will?" Mr. Bane asked.

The boy's gaze was fixed on a shadow creeping across the Lightwood's lawn, a man with hair so dark it seemed almost blue in the moonlight. In a moment, Will had jumped over the balcony rail and was running across the lawn after him, silent, but steps intent with anger.

Tessa turned to Bane. "What the hell was that?"

 **A nice long chapter, it turns out! And fun to write (:  
Tessa's unease at the party was partly based off my own at my school's Semi-formal this week, but Tessa and Will had their first kiss! (That's more thank I can say hahaha… *cries*)  
R&R please, comments = love = happiness.  
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxooxoxoxoxoooxoxoxoxooxxoxo**


	13. 13: Sick foroverwithof You

**JEEEEEEMMMM! This one's for you (:**

Tessa stumbled into her room just after midnight. Somehow, Gabriel had marketed the event as a school activity, some sort of late night study ritual before the end of term, and so the gates were unlocked, guarded only by a surly Thomas in a light canvas jacket and the howling wind. Her bare legs had been cold on the dash to her building, her bare feet colder, the ridiculous shoes Jessamine had picked out swinging from her fingers. She wanted the jacket Will had stolen for her. Fuck it, she wanted Will. She wanted his lips, his taste, his warmth against her side.

Jessamine wasn't back yet, for which she was grateful. The other girl was probably hooking up with some senior boy. A thought skated across her mind, something about Jessamine, and, and Nate, but she was too tired and hazy to think about it. The shadows were moving funny ways, and she was hungry. She collapsed on her bed, rifling through the box of crisps and chocolate bars Jessamine kept 'just in case'. A bag of munchies half finished in her lap, she fell asleep.

Jem woke up coughing. The sky outside was dark, a thick, midnight dark. Blood dribbled down his chin. "Will?" But he remembered. Will was at a party, a party with Tessa.

Jem's lean frame spasmed, a muscle in his back straining. He fought upright. Instantly, a wave of nausea caught him, and he fought it back, spitting bile on the floor. The box of silver powder was on the edge of the sink, left out from his return from the hospital wing. He measured, carefully, a dosage into the beaker, stirring it, waiting for the powder to dissolve. His hands shook. He coughed, doubled over, red fleck spattered on the mirror. The beaker was in pieces on the floor, the needle in the sink, the solution creeping towards his feet.

Suddenly, he was six. A man came at him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Such a pretty little boy," he crooned. His voice was raw, scratchy, his words muffled by the cigarette. Jem whimpered. The man grinned over his shoulder. "Perhaps we'll pay a little visit to the washroom." The tap was already running, hissing. The man grabbed him under his arms, the cigarette dropping as he lifted, falling down on to Jem's exposed collarbone, stinging, burning. He heard his mother scream, felt her hands graze his legs, then land on those of the man carrying him. He kicked her off, and Jem heard the sharp crack of her teeth breaking, being spat on the floor. "Bùshì wǒ de bǎobèi! Bùshì wǒ de nánhái." _Not my baby. Not my boy._

The water was hot, but not unbearably so; cooler than the fire that had flushed them from their bedrooms some time ago. Time had lost meaning. Somewhere, his father had been hit across the head, and hadn't spoken since. Somewhere, his mother had held his hand and he'd been wrenched away. Somewhere, he was dragged into the bathroom, and the door was locked behind him.

He turned the water off, anxious to stop the flooding of the sink. The air smelled funny, sharp and sour, stinging his eyes. He splashed cold water on the blistering welt on his collarbone, and it was fire, so much worse than it was at first, so he splashed it away. He banged on the door, screamed for his mom, his dad, to come, he wasn't okay, it wasn't okay, he needed them. His head felt thick, like someone was wrapping it in gauze. His tears were splashing in the water pooled on the floor, and there was blood streaming from his nose, and everything was hazy, foggy, dim, cold floor on his cheek, ragged breaths.

His head was in the toilet, and there was blood in his vomit, and the floor was littered with broken glass, and he folded longer limbs upon themselves, and cried.

"Hey, Tessa," Sophie cried, chasing the other girl through the door to the maths classroom. "You have need to come with me."

Tessa turned. "Really, now? I-"

"Now." Sophie's voice was stronger than Tessa had heard. She nodded, following out through the front doors, across the courtyard, and into the medical wing. "Now, you be good to him," Sophie warned. "He's better than all of us." Then she blushed, hurrying away.

Tessa already had an inkling as to why she was here, but still wasn't prepared to see Jem propped up on pillows in a narrow bed, a blanket tucked in around his waist. There were deep purple shadows under his eyes, and the his face was flecked with red; not blood, upon closer inspection, but small cuts.

"My hands too," Jem said, noticing her stare. "Feet, sides. Who knew one little cup could do so much damage, huh."

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I had an episode."

"A… a what? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, or intruding, or… can I get you anything?" She saw a damp cloth of the bed stand. "Maybe a cold compress? That's what they do in movies, right? Or tea… that seems very British."

Jem shook his head. "No, please-"

"Here, like this." Tessa laid the cloth across his forehead, leaning in to press it down. With her so close, Jem found he did not, after all, mind being minded.

"It's perfectly alright to ask questions, you know," Jem added, pretending not to lean into her. "In fact, its why I asked you. I thought perhaps you should know what you're dealing with."

"Well, I'm dealing with you, aren't I?"

Jem smiled. "Well, I'm sort of a package deal. Me, and my illness, I mean."

"I see only one."

"For now." He twisted towards her, making enough room for her to sit properly on the bed, her hand still on his forehead. "Please, I want you to know." He swallowed.

"Okay."

"When I was little, my parents were killed." His voice was even, matter of fact.

A drier one echoed from the doorway. "Cheerful conversation opener, isn't it?" Will called. "Interrupting, am I?"

Tess pulled away from Jem, who murmured, "Not at all. I was going to tell Tessa why-"

"Yes, and what a terrific sob story. Tessa, would you mind waiting another day to hear it, Jem and I need some quality time, just us."

Tessa grimaced. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Fantastic." He leaned closer to Jem and laughed. "I've had the most wonderful night! I was in this bar called the crooked thumb, and there was this fight. Of course, it was nearer to one in the morning, so everyone was pretty tossed, and there was a woman, so I slipped her a wink, and she up and tossed a pint on my head! Turns out she was six fingered Nigel from the other week."

Tess brushed past Will on her way out, shutting the door and cutting of his wild story. There had been no mention of her, of the Lightwood's party, of the mysterious man running across the field. And, now she thought about it, Will was in the clothes he'd worn the night before, and Tessa had been around Nate enough to know the smell of bars and stale alcohol. Though Will claimed to have been out drinking all night, to even have had a bottle dumped on him, he smelled nothing like liquor, but like fresh rain and city smog.

She was angry at him too, she found, not just for the mysterious lying and the brush off after their kiss, but for interrupting her time with Jem. Jem, who's parents had been killed when he was very young... who had been about to tell her something important.

She leaned against the wall. The low murmur of the boys' voices was still audible through the wall, broken by the obligatory laugh on Jem's part. How Will could be so selfish she didn't know. His best friend was terribly sick, in the hospital, and he was recounting tales of his false night of revelry and sin. She pushed off, striding away down the corridor. Of course, it was possible Will was distracting Jem, taking his mind of his illness, and whatever serious thing he had been waiting for Tessa to ask. It may have been, she thought, that _she_ was the inconsiderate outsider. But then, Jem had asked for her… it was all to confusing!

But it _had_ gotten her excused from math for the day. With a free period ahead, she wandered to the library.

Jessamine was at the vanity when Tessa slumped into their room hours later to retrieve her workout gear. She'd just had physics, and her brain was buzzing, momentum screaming in one ear and Mus out the other. She had _no_ idea what was going on. She'd puzzled over the Will incident all day, wanting both to slap him across the face and to kiss him again. And talk to Jem. She felt she'd hardly had her share of time with him, after having been so interrupted. The prospect of an afternoon being corrected by Gabriel and kicked in the side added to her already querulous mood.

Jessamine turned to her. "You left early last night."

"Yeah, I… drank some lemonade."

"First time?"

Tessa flopped on her bed, one hand over her eyes. She couldn't believe she'd taken drugs last night, even if inadvertently. "I didn't _mean_ to. I wanted lemonade because I was avoiding all the alcohol. So Will-"

"Oh, he knew. He probably even planned it. Did he suggest it?"

"What?" The evening was a blur, she couldn't remember.

"I'm sure he did. Usually, it's a sure way to get laid."

Tessa scowled, tugging off her boots. "Well, he didn't."

"From the look on your face, not for lack of intention."

"Lay off it Jessamine, okay? It was a mistake, I didn't know what was going on, and we were interrupted by a teacher who's class I have to take next semester, and he doesn't even want to talk to me anymore."

"The teacher?"

"No! Will."

"Course he doesn't honey. He got what he wanted, didn't he?"

Tessa remembered the pins falling from her hair, and the way he'd looked at her before going over the railing. She'd thought, maybe… but then… "I guess he did."

Will was waiting for her when the left the gym, once more sweaty and gross, but her confidence somewhat bolstered by a few good, and well exclaimed over, hits to Gabriel. They'd worked on punches to the gut that afternoon, to be followed, Gabriel claimed, with a closing kick they would learn next lesson.

"Hey Tessie. Up for another swim?"

Tessa didn't even blink. She said, "Don't call me that," and punched Will, exactly as Gabriel had showed her; thumb outside her fist, shoulder down, drive. "Asshole." As she continued past him, head up, she heard Gabriel applauding.

Will gaped at her retreating figure, heaving out his breath. He thought maybe her knuckles would hurt the next day, but he was also pretty sure his stomach would bruise. After a brief, internal debate, he decided not to run after her. He knew when someone needed to make a dramatic exit.

Tessa knocked on the door to Will and Jem's room. It was only a half hour until dorm checks, and she was in her flannel PJs already, but the prospect of leaving her interaction with Jem unresolved wrangled with her, guilt flipping in her stomach, until she threw down her book and went to see him, praying Will would not be there.

"Jem?" She asked.

Will pulled the door open, a hoodie over his arm. He grinned indolently at her. "I was just leaving."

Tessa pushed past him. Jem was seated at his desk, wearing just a pair of grey sweatpants, his full, lean torso on display. He blushed. "Hi."

"Hi." She sat on the edge of his bed. "I just… I couldn't relax, knowing this morning was… unresolved." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she had a panic, suddenly sure it was all in her head, that nothing really had happened, that he would think her ridiculous and presumptuous.

"I was worrying about that too," he said, capping his pen and turning to face her. "Would you toss me my hoodie?"

Tessa bit her lip, but something told her now was not the time to tease. She passed it to him. Wordlessly, he slipped it over his head.

"I thought, maybe, there was something you wanted to tell me." Tessa sat on her hands so as not to chew on her fingernails.

Jem stood up, coming to sit beside her. "I don't know. I thought we were friends, and close enough that you should probably know what's going on with me."

Tessa nodded. "If you want to tell me."

"I do. I just… I don't want you to see me any differently. And you will. And I hate that."

"Course I won't. Don't be stupid Jem. You're the best person I know."

He took a deep breath, colour high in his cheeks, his eyes too bright. "I have a gene mutation. In a year, I'll be dead."

 **Dun dun da daaa! Look at me update like a boss! Spring break is in a week and a day, and I need it, oh god do I need it. Also, this cliff hanger would be waaaay more dramatic if no one read the book. Huh.  
** ** _A note on the Chinese: No, I do not know anything about what's going on, so excuse me |_** **:** ** _but I did just plug 'simple Chinese' into google translate… sorry  
_** **R &R please! Lots of love**


	14. 14: Conditions and Consequences

**And so, Tessa must deal with the complications of two rather shocking revelations. Hope you enjoy (:**

Tessa swallowed. "We're all dying."

"I'm just going faster. Too fast."

Tessa was silent. What do you say, to something to huge, so terrifically unjust, and yet so fitting? So she turned her head instead, and found his lips again, already familiar. Kissing Jem was sweet and perfect, and she felt warm all over, like a hot bath. She reached for the zip on his hoodie, watching him blush. "I'm sorry… it's not…"

She kissed the curve of his pale, muscular chest, silver angles and delicately prominent ribs, all lined in steel. "You, Jem Carstairs, are perfect."

They curled up together not long after, pulling Jem's thick comforter over the both of them. His fingers were tangled in her hair, and his other hand entwined with hers, tucked safely beneath her chin. Their heartbeats slowed in tandem, their breathing synched as it grew deeper, his for once easy as it flitted from his chest and across her head. His eyelids fluttered, he sighed, sound asleep. She nestled back against him, pillowing her head on his arm.

This was how Will found them when he cracked open the door: Jem a small smile lifting the corners of his hollow face; Tessa, face free of worry lines, her lips pressed against the crook of his elbow, head tucked against his chest.

Will checked his watch. Dorm checks were in fifteen minutes, but the pair were so soundly asleep he could not bear to wake them. He pulled shut the door and turned back down the hallway.

Tessa awoke first, to the sound of the morning bell. Her eyes flew open, huge and startled and grey, right into Jem's fluttering silver ones. "Good morning," he murmured.

"Jem!" Tessa was already jumping to her feet, pulling on her shoes, checking her pockets for her keys. "We fell asleep. I missed dorm checks! Oh god, they'll have checked here, and seen us, and… oh fuck. I'm going to lose my scholarship, I'm going to be kicked out; I can't, I actually can't do this." She stopped suddenly, dropping the shoe which she had frantically been shoving on to her foot. She bit her lip, remembering. "And you…"

Jem passed her room key to her from where it had fallen out beneath the covers in the night. He smiled. "Tessa. Get to your room, get into uniform, get to class. The world must go on."

"But…"

"It was all happening before. You just didn't know about it."

"I wish I had."

"Don't. You promised you wouldn't treat me differently."

"I know. I just..."

"Tessa. Go to class. I'm fine."

She nodded decidedly, and, grabbing her shoe, scurried out the door. One foot in the hallway, she turned back. "Last night, I didn't just because…"

"Tessa."

"Right. Right. Gotcha. Later." She slammed the door.

Tessa showed up for English ten minutes late, starving, and still not having come to grips with her dramatic weekend; the fact that one of her best friends had drugged her and tried to use her (seduce her?) and the other was dying. It was rather a mind-full.

"Miss Gray?"

Tessa's head snapped up from where she had been doodling in the margins of her worksheet.

"Off who was the character Tess Durbeyfield modelled?"

Tessa shook her head. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Mr. Scott pursed his lips. He was ballsy at best, with a sharp tongue and obvious enjoyment of drink, but he, waving his fancy cigars he kept in gold cases too expensive to not be tacky, could recite passages like poetry from every novel they studied, and loved literature for the language of storytelling and the way in which it taught all things, and so allowed him the superior air for which he had a marked propensity. Tessa had yet to decide if she loved or hated him.

Right now, she was leaning towards the latter. Had he quizzed her on the content of the novel, the themes, events, sacrifices and emotions therein, she could have pulled something off. Instead, he asked random facts and said, "I see," in the most disappointed, disapproving tone. She hated that tone.

She felt Sophie glance at her, ready to share a conciliatory grimace or to make some offensive imitation, but Tessa flushed and kept her eyes on the board. When she was kicked out, she'd have to leave Sophie behind too, after all. She couldn't help the gloomy surety that had descended.

"Augusta Way," Mr. Scoot replied. "Jot it down, jot it down. I'm not saying that it is going to be on your test, but it is going to be on your test. Anybody failing, in this antepenultimate semester, can hand in an essay on their similarities, or, perhaps, on the observed similarities between Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and the characters and social structures active today. No, Mr. Lightwood, name does not count." He looked pointedly at Tessa, who was trying (not very hard) to not enjoy Gabriel's reddening neck.

Mr. Scott pulled a rather wicked lighter out of his desk drawer and closed it with a bang, the whole class jumping slightly. He waved it around lavishly a few times, using it to accent his next monologue, so dryly spoken as to be near humorous. "Tell me now, what was Tess' main opposition within the first two parts of the story? For those who have not read it, that includes not the first two _chapters_ , in which little we truly care about was discussed, except for, of course, the introduction of characters, setting, circumstance, and conflict. No, I refer to _The Maiden,_ and _Maiden No More_ , which is quite telling, if anyone thinks to read into it. But of course, pardon my forgetting the generation gap. No one reads voluntarily anymore! So enlighten me, since this was assigned. The conflict, the opposition, the outcome. Go."

Forty minutes later, Tessa dragged out of the classroom, Sophie hot on her heals. A dark-haired girl breezed past them, ranting to her companion- "Antepenultimate? Could he have not just said that its first term!"- and into the hallways, just crowding with the between classes rush. Of course, the school population was small even at peak, and the classes so scattered as to disperse large crowds altogether, but the English building was no more than four classrooms, divided by two extremely narrow hallways that crossed dead centre, and leaving it in exactly the direction one had hoped was nearly impossible.

Sophie grabbed her sleeve just as Tessa breached the doorway and was expelled onto the grass beside the cobbled walk. "Hey. Is everything okay, between us? Because you've been kind of avoiding me, and I wanted to know that I didn't do anything or, you haven't heard something…"

Tessa's eyes widened. "Oh no, you can't think that! There's just been so much going on, and I think I've made a fairly terrible fool of myself, and I'm sure to be kicked out any moment, I'll tell you all later, I'm sure, just as soon as I get through French. Oh fuck, that's with Will." Tessa pulled up one of her knee socks. "Lunch then. Alright?"

Sophie nodded. "Okay. Lunch." As Tessa ran off, she wondered if, perhaps, the other girl had been caught under Jessamine's spell; the shiny hair and pretty nails. Tessa wouldn't be the first to make a new friend and become to good for her. She bit one of her ragged fingernails and, having a spare period, went to find Charlotte.

When Tessa arrived in French, it was to see the seat in front of her blessedly empty. She shuffled through her notes, trying desperately to remember the correct conjugations of irregular verbs in the conditional tense; less for fear of one of Madame Belecourt's infamous pop quizzes, and more for something to occupy her mind aside from praying the seat would remain empty.

She had no such luck however. Just as the last bell rang, Will sauntered through the classroom door, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He met hers across the room and grinned, sliding easily into his seat. "Bonjour Madame. Ça va? Il fait beau aujourd'hui, n'est pas?"

"Bon appris midi, tous. Un examen petite maintenant, mes élevés. Surprise!" Madame Belecourt giggled. "Est-ce que ce n'est pas amusant?"

She handed round the papers, a quiz which was indeed on the conditional tense; her ruby heels clacking across the wooden floor, and the scent of her perfume wafting out behind her.

Tessa bent over it. _Manger_. This was easy. She could do this. She scribbled in the first few answers, then looked up to check the remaining time. Her eyes caught on Will's hair, a lock of which had curled perfectly at the back of his neck. She suddenly felt like Ramona Quimby, terribly anxious to tug the girls of the person in front, and watch it spring, or, in Ramona's words, sproing back into place. Of course, her motives, she was sure, were quite different. His hair, she knew already, was very soft. She wouldn't mind running her hands through it again, or feeling his in her own. Her gaze wandered down the strong line of his shoulder through his dress shirt. She was suddenly (well, not too suddenly) intensely curious as to what he looked like without it. What he looked like compared to… Jem.

She shut her eyes, trying to shake the fantasies that were half memory rushing through her brain. Jem. Jem was sweet, and kind, considerate, and lovely, and dying. And she had spent the last night in his bed. Just kissing (mostly) but still. Jem. She must think of Jem.

"Deux minuit." From the front, Madame Belecourt scratching it on the board, white chalk flaking on to the ground.

What Tessa needed to focus on, this minute, was her test. Etre is irregular, she knew that. But turns to what?

"Temps. Ca suffit."

She, along with the rest of the class, groaned.

"Passez votre examen a la personne sur votre droit."

Will twisted in his seat. "Charles isn't here. Can the three of us trade instead?" He glanced between Tessa and her desk partner Tatiana, who had turned out to be nearly as insufferable as Will, and just as in love with herself.

"Fine." Tatiana tossed her paper to Tess, and snatched Will's from his outstretched hand. Frowning, Tessa passed hers forward.

"Thanks love." He glanced down at it, then smirked. "Nice illustration."

Tessa's eyes widened, but he had already turned back to the front, where Madame Belecourt had already started to write the answers up in crisp, perfect cursive. She sat in the agony of curiosity for another ten minutes before they were instructed to return their quizzes to the owners and then take their marks up to the front.

Will was still smirking when he passed it back.

He had written a little commentary beside each of the questions. Things like, 'you're going great sweetie,' and 'missed just one, keep your chin up'. Better, or worse though, was that in the bottom corner of the page, she had, while off in space, doodled an intricate letter W, the end of which looked rather like a J. Beside it, with his red pen, Will had written, 'I won't tell if you don't.'

She ripped a corner off of her notebook, balled it up, and chucked it at the back of his head, but he just chuckled, and rose to report his grade.

When class ended, Tessa hurriedly packed up her things, terribly grateful that it was lunch. She had to meet Sophie, to talk this whole thing through.

"Tessa." Will grabbed her sleeve. "Where are we eating?"

"Not together."

Will looked taken aback. "What?"

"Did you know what was in the lemonade?"

"The lemonade? What—Oh, at Benedict's. Was something wrong? I had a rather good time, I thought you did too."

"Yes well, drugs can have that affect." She pushed past him, then thought of something and turned over her shoulder. "And tell Jem… tell him to find me when he has a moment. Please."

She hurried out the door, leaving Will, bewildered, to gather his books.

Sophie was seated beneath one of the ornamental oak trees in the quad when Tessa found her, taking advantage of the good weather. "You mustn't ever," Tessa said as she sat down, "think I'd leave you for Jessamine. We may be roommates, but you and I? We're friends."

Sophie blushed, turning an apple over in her hands. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean for you to think anything was wrong. I've just got a bit going on."

"With the boys?"

Tessa nodded, then proceeded to recount the whole weekend' events. "I'm so stupid! I don't even know what's going on."

"Why did you even go to Benedict's?"

"Jessamine. She said I was too isolated, and that the two of us needed some bonding time, and that she had a dress I could wear, and that she couldn't very well show up alone. I don't know. It all sounds so stupid."

"And he really drugged you?"

"That's what Magnus… er, Mr. Bane said. That the lemonade had molly in it. And Jessamine said that every boy knows to use that."

"You know, you claim your just roommates, but you're taking a lot of her advice."

"I don't mean to. It's just, she's always there, and then she says something, and it's like it's stuck in my head, like a popcorn kernel in your gum. You know it hurts, and it shouldn't be there, but you just can't get it out. I suppose you knew about Jem."

"Yes. I've been bringing him extra doses from Charlotte, or helping him to the hospital wing if something goes wrong since he got here. I'm more discreet than a Brother."

Tessa nodded. "Yeah, you are. Less creepy too."

"Thanks." Sophie tugged a handful of grass free. "So do you like Will or Jem?"

"I… I don't know. I mean, I like _kissing_ both of them, but that seems a little too Italian to pass as a real answer. They're so similar, and so different, but such a package deal. How do you like one without the other?"

Sophie bit her lip. "It's not _that_ hard. Jem is good, kind, honest, considerate. Will… well, there are worse."

Tessa raised her eyebrow. "You know, you can tell me if there's something else here…?"

The other girl flushed and shook her head violently. "Heaven forbid, no." But she was blushing. "Just, think of it this way. On man drugs you to try and get you to bed. The other, opens up his heart to you. Which is a better recommendation?" She bit into her apple with a loud crunch, and leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes.

"Have you heard anything about me being expelled?"

"What? Why?"

"I was in Jem's room at dorm checks."

"They probably thought you were at the Lightwoods. Didn't Gabriel get the curfew extended, market it as a school event?"

"Yeah, but I mean, for the later check. I was there the whole night."

"Alone. With Jem." Sophie didn't stir, but her voice was keener.

"Yeah. I mean, like I said, we didn't do anything other than kiss, but…"

"I haven't heard anything."

"You won't have," Jessamine cut in, spreading out Tessa's jacket and sitting down beside them. "As far as the administration are concerned, Tessa was in her bed last night, right on time."

"I was? Did you… how?"

"It wasn't me. It was Will. He was there when I woke up this morning, said he knew you needed someone to fill in for the bed check. So you're not in any trouble. But tell me: if you weren't out galivanting with him, where were you?"

Tessa tugged up her knee socks. There was one worry down. But if Will had known to cover for her, then he knew how she spent the second half of her night. Then he thought she was as flip about their encounter at the party as he had been. Then he was must be so confused. _She_ was so confused. She sprang to her feet. "I've got to go."

 **So this was all relationship drama! Oh well… I guess I'm in the mood.  
I'm feeling pretty sick, and so I spent all day in bed and watched a season and a half of Sherlock (If you watch it, you know its not ****_that_** **impressive) but you have no idea how impossible it was not to turn Will into some kind of random, bad ass detective here, over analyzing her pencil strokes in the commentary.  
R&R please!  
Love**


	15. 15: Organized Accidents

**Well hello. Long time, no see. I'm pretty bad at this whole keeping in touch thing, I guess. Hope you enjoy!**

Tessa dressed for work the next Saturday morning. She's spent the whole week curling up in different outdoor hallways, too anxious to go to the library lest she saw Will, unable to stay locked in her room because of Jessamine and her incessant questioning, afraid, even, of lunch with Sophie, because she had a habit of ending up beside Jem. For the first time in what felt like her life, she was almost able to understand math. It seemed that avoiding your friends did have _some_ benefits- like extra study time.

Jessamine was still passed out cold on her bed, her tiny cream sleeping set bunched up around her hips and breasts to show her long thin legs. Her silvery hair was spread across both the pillow and her face, a strand caught in her mouth. Tessa supposed that it was rare for most people to see the other girl this vulnerable, but being her roommate, it was near unavoidable.

She tugged on her jeans and pulled her jacket over her shoulders, tossing the hood up over her brain. It hadn't snowed since that first day in November, but the rain had been incessant, drumming noisily on classroom skylights and seeping into the dress shoes that were part of uniform as students dashed between classes.

Gabriel was waiting for her in the parking lot, a large black umbrella open over her head. She stopped a few feet away from him, and he sidled closer. "You and Herondale have a good time at my party then?"

Tessa stiffened.

"It sure looked like it to me," Gabriel continued, "but then, he _did_ run away, so maybe—"

"Fuck off Gabriel."

"Is that why you punched him? It was a good job. You had the form and everything. Next time, you can dig in with your knuckles a little bit, get that extra scrape. Or, you know, use the kick we've been working on."

Tessa took a deep breath through her nose, trying to keep her composure. "Maybe I'll use it on you," she suggested drily.

"Bad mood today are we? I would have thought that punching the man would have helped."

"That was nearly a week ago, okay? Shut up. You don't understand."

"Please." Gabriel pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and checked the time. "As if you're the first one I've scene in this situation. It's the Herondale disease. You love him, but he's actually a prick, which you're well aware of. Ask any girl in the school, she knows how you're feeling. Of course, he doesn't need to _drug_ most of them in order to get to second base."

"Wow Gabriel, you sound almost jealous."

"Pitying, I assure you. If any man's looking for a conquest, it's Will."

"Well if I need a bitter, self-serving fuck-face, I'll come find. you."

"I'm flattered, really."

Tessa supposed that was the moment she could have laughed, and maybe she and Gabriel would have become friends, but she was in too foul a mood to crack even a smile, and when the town car arrived, she slammed the door behind her.

At the station, Chief Wayland was plying her with questions. She had been set up at a table, and there was a little recording device, almost like she was a suspect. He would ask her a question, and the little timer would count down three seconds, at which point, if she hadn't started to answer, he would ask her another one. She came out of the room with sweaty palms and a pale sheen to her skin.

She watched the chief speaking with some of his deputies and Gabriel's father through the glass.

"I think she's telling the truth about the car, and her brother. But I'm also not sure how much more she can give us. I believe—"

Tessa tuned it out. They didn't have a use for her anymore. She was going to be sent back the Institute every Saturday. She wasn't going to be able to get to work, and she wouldn't be able to stay at school. She didn't want to go back to being Gray! And worse, nobody knew how to find her brother. What if something terrible had happened to him? Her beautiful, troubled, easily led brother.

Her worries plagued her all the way through the first half of her shift, until she carried an order out to table five, by the window, and noticed it's occupant. "Mr. Mortmain?"

He looked up at her and smiled. "The girl from the plane." His eyebrows drew together. "You don't look well. Are you? Please, sit down."

Tessa glanced at the clock on the wall to her right. She was overdue for her break, and the little coffee shop was quiet. "I'll just hang up my apron, if you don't mind."

"Then please, join me, Miss Gray."

Something clicked as he said her name, and she glanced warily over her shoulder a number of times as she hung up her apron on the little hook at the back that indicated it was in use. He watched her go, his coffee held in a loose, long-fingered grip. When she sat back opposite him, he pushed his plate of scones towards her, but she shook her head.

"Where's my brother."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

"I didn't put it together on the plane, because I was so overwhelmed, but I've been going over the letters non-stop the last few weeks. Nate wrote to me about you, and about our parents. He said you helped him out of the pandemonium club. So where is he now?"

Tessa was having a hard time drawing breath, as though someone had laced her tightly into a corset, not that she was familiar with the feeling. Her breaths were coming in quick gasps, and her toes and fingers were tingling, edging towards numb. She tried to supress a shiver that ran down her spine, shaking her shoulders. Her mind would supply only one word: 'Nate', cotton balls filling the remainder of the room.

"I'm afraid you aren't well, Miss Gray. Look, so pale. And obviously quite overwhelmed. Let me take you home. Wait here, it won't be a moment."

Tessa did feel quite dizzy, and there was a cold sweat between her shoulder blades. She closed her stinging eyes in a long blink. Mortmain was standing at the counter, talking in a low voice to Tessa's boss. He motioned to her, pale and sweaty, still slumped in the seat, and then towards himself and the door. Her boss was nodding sympathetically, grabbing her time sheet from the drawer beneath the counter and filling in the early leave.

The next moment, Mortmain was back, a guiding hand on her elbow, helping her to her feet and out onto the sidewalk. The cold air felt nice on her face, sneaking into her lungs. She hadn't drawn proper breath in a number of moments, and everything was starting to hurt. Black spots crept into the edges of her vision.

The next thing that was aware of was someone pressing something cold onto her forehead. A compress. She sat up abruptly, ready to brush it away, when she saw who held it.

"My turn," Jem said, forcing her back against the pillows with a gentle push.

Tessa threw back the bedcovers. "And you're very good at it, I'm sure. I need to find Mortmain. Do you know where he is?"

"Tess…" Jem averted his eyes. She wore only a silk nightgown, and as she scooted across the bed it had rucked up around her legs in such a way that made the boy flush.

She tossed a pillow at his head. "Grow up. It's not like you've never seen a girl naked."

He flushed harder, and cleared his throat.

Tessa, somewhat wrong footed at the realization, paused. "Well… I'm sure you want it to be someone special then. Not me." She gave a little laugh.

"Have you?" Jem stopped and bit his lip. "I mean, seen a boy naked?"

Tessa rolled her eyes, pulling on sweatpants and sneakers. "I have a brother, so, inevitably. But uh, no. Not in a way that counts." She tugged a hoodie over her head.

"They why would you assume I have?"

"I don't know, you're a popular, good-looking guy? Your best friend is Will Herondale? You're a _guy_." She turned back to him. "I'm sorry, but I really need to find Nate, and right now, Mortmain is the best guess I have."

"Try Charlotte," Jem suggested to her back. She raised a hand and waved without turning, leaving Jem's heart skipping in his chest. She hadn't… and she thought he was good looking! _And_ she didn't mention his illness.

Tessa made it about as far as the infirmary door before she ran into Sophie, who ostensibly refused to let her past, her arms stretched childishly across the doorframe. "Where are you even going?" Sophie asked.

"I have to find Mortmain."

"Why?"

"I think he has my brother."

"'Has.' What the hell Tessa?"

Tessa was shaking, just a little. She felt nauseous. "Mortmain, he's everywhere. He's in the letters, he's on the plane. I just need to find him. Right now. I need to get Nate."

"What you need to do is lie down and let Jem baby you, heavens knows there are worse things. A brother is coming soon, because no one knows _why_ you got sick mid-shift, and it doesn't seem like the flu. Most people with the flu don't… dream like you do."

Tessa rolled her eyes. "I always have dreams." Nightmares. About New York, and bars, and Nate. "It's no reason to keep me here."

"Do you always flail, speak in multiple voices, whisper, and cut yourself?"

"I don't know. Ask Jessamine." Tessa glanced at her wrist to where fresh pink lines stood raised, her fingernails having scrabbled there as she slept. Farther up her arm, she knew, nearly to her elbow, there were more white lines, faded a little now, from when her brother first left. But the streets were too dirty not to get an infection, and she hadn't wanted to die. Just to feel something.

"It's not normal Tess. Sit back down, at least."

She could feel Jem staring from the bed she had so swiftly vacated as the perched on the edge of the one nearest to the door. Sophie kept shooting glances at him, a pink staining her high cheekbones. Then she met Jem's silver eyes with a steely glare, and jerked her head to indicate the he come over. The boy rose to his feet and wandered over, leaving the damp cloth on the bed stand.

"You didn't get far."

Sophie glared at him. "She's not supposed to leave the infirmary. Charlotte gave us implicit instructions."

Jem just shrugged. "Sometimes, being sick isn't, can't be enough of a deterrent."

Sophie bit her lip. "Did you hear her _story_ though?"

Tessa waved her hands. "Hello, right here."

"Yes. She thinks she knows how to find her brother." He turned to Tessa. "How do you know Mortmain?"

"He sat next to me on my flight over here. From New York, I mean. And before that, though I didn't realise it, Nate had written me about him. Nate said he was involved in the Pandemonium club, but had helped Nate out and given him a job. I didn't put two and two together until this afternoon."

"Do you think it was the realisation that made you feel faint?"

Tessa rubbed her eyes with her wrists. "Maybe. I don't usually get dizzy or anything though. God, what I wouldn't give for some strong dark coffee."

"We have tea," Jem offered. "Chamomile or—" he checked the box "—English breakfast."

The scowl Tessa gave him would have curdled cream.

"I'll have English Breakfast," Charlotte said from the door. Behind her stood the towering figure of one of the Brothers, the same, it seemed, as he who had first visited her—Enoch, she thought his name was.

Jem looked questioningly at the doctor, but he mimed sewing shut his lips and shook his head.

Brother Enoch strode closer motioning for Tessa to sit on the bed. "I'm fine, really," she said, obeying.

He nodded. "Miss Collins informs me that you fell unconscious at work, and suffered from violent nightmares for several hours, with a small fever."

Tessa shrugged. "I feel fine." This wasn't strictly true. Her head ached like a bitch, and the tips of her fingers were tingly, like she had burned them, or sat on them for too long. Not to mention her skill felt six inches thick.

"When did you begin to feel ill?"

Tessa rolled her eyes. "At Bits and Pieces, about halfway through my shift. 2:30, I'd guess?"

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yes. I had…" she thought back. "I had a smoothie a blueberry muffin, I think."

Brother Enoch pursed his lips. "Have you consumed any alcohol or substances in the last forty-eight hours?"

Gabriel's party was more than a week ago now. "No," she replied. "Not that I know of."

"Are you on any medication? For anxiety, for sleep?"

"Nope."

He glanced to Charlotte. "I understand that you're seeing a counselor through the school?"

Tessa glanced at Jem and Sophie, but nodded. "I see them at the station, actually."

"Lisbeth Cray?"

Tessa nodded.

"I'll speak to her. In your next session you should discuss the potential positive effects of chemical assistance."

"You mean meds?"

"They can be very helpful in balancing your moods and your sleeping schedule. In turn, you may find yourself better able to concentrate and able to work."

Tess felt the blood in her cheeks. "I feel fine." She did not want to be on medication; that would imply that there was something wrong with her, and there was nothing wrong with her, except that she needed to find Mortmain, and she needed to find her brother.

"Just something to consider," Brother Enoch replied.

"Because I got sick at work _one time_ , you think, suddenly, I have this chemical imbalance in my brain? That you can just throw pills at me and make it all better? You know _nothing_ about my mental state right now, and, frankly, you have no right to comment on it. You were called in to look at me about a fever and one bout of nightmares. But if you're so curious, I'll tell you what I need. I need to be financially stable, and secure in my place at this school. Ideally, that would include clear and comfortable relationships. I need to close the door on my aunt's death, and I need to send a care package to Ms. Jameson, who was kind to me, and I need to finish an English paper and a lab report. But most importantly, right now, I need to find my brother. Because every second he is with that man, he is in danger, and I am putting him there."

The kettle boiled, it's shrill whistle piercing the air.

Brother Enoch's face remained impassive.

"I'll get that," Jem said into the heavy air. "Did you still want English Breakfast, Charlotte?"

"Yes thank you," she said.

Tessa and the Brother had not yet broken eye contact.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, and rose. The distance to the door seemed to stretch before her, and she felt like she was wading upstream. She could feel Brother Enoch's eyes boring holes into her back, hear his thoughts in her head: 'she's crazy. She's going crazy'.

But she needed to get out, and she needed to find Nate. And the best way she could think to do that was to go to the source. She needed to have coffee with Mortmain.

 **This is a long chapter, (by like, 300 words- Gasp!) but it really should be, considering it's been, what, four months? Five? In all honesty, I forgot about this fic. I forgot about fanfiction totally, actually. I was away for most of the summer, sailing and hiking and taking lifeguard courses. The only stories I wrote were my own. But now, as school (grade 12!) starts again, and my procrastination gene kicks into high gear, I find myself opening this long left folder and trying once more.  
I can't promise regular updates, because I have recognized that I am, myself, an irregular person, and also not very good with deadlines, whether I set them or someone else does.  
Either way, please leave a little review and make me very very happy (:**


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